#and now I’m pissed at myself. alls well I’m fine but like.

[summer-fire]

Closest I’ve ever gotten to road rage.

[sloaneispunk]

“once smitten”

frontman!in-ho x you

what if in-ho falls for gi-hun’s sister in the games?

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ༊· ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

“excuse me, i-” in-ho tried to introduce himself.

“ah, you’re so stupid! how could you take an invitation from a stranger?!” gi-hun scolded you as you stood like a little kid before him, head down with your hands behind your back.

“oh, yes, how can we help you?” jung-bae chuckled awkwardly, turning to face in-ho.

“i was just wondering if i could join your team, i saw that-”

“you’re saying that to me?! you came voluntarily too, again!” you shouted back at your brother, cutting in-ho off again as the team tried to de-escalate the situation.

“give me one moment.” jung-bae excused him, pulling you aside, away from gi-hun to calm down.

“i’m sorry.” apologised gi-hun as he turned his attention towards in-ho, looking him up and down once. “i’m gi-hun, that’s my sister y/n.” he said, pointing to you as you slumped onto the ground.

“ah, i must have caught you guys at a bad time.” in-ho sniggered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“no, no. everything’s fine here, you’re welcomed to join us.”

in-ho gave him a grateful smile, walking towards you, brushing skimmed past gi-hun.

“hi, you’re y/n? i’m assuming?”

you nodded, “you had to ask my brother for permission to join?” you jokingly said.

in-ho took a seat on the floor beside you. “what happened? if you don’t mind me asking.”

“gi-hun didn’t come home for a year after his first game. went on like a lunatic about it when he did come home. then, he was gone, next thing i knew i was ‘happily reunited’ with him again here.”

of course in-ho had already knew all that, but it was part of his ruse to get closer to gi-hun.

“but whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway. i can take care of myself, i don’t need him.” you scoffed, arms crossed.

in-ho couldn’t help but grin at the sight, you were sulking in a corner with him, about the one thing that was possibly the least dangerous in the whole game.

“well, looks like i’m gonna be here for a while so, you know where to find me if you need me.” in-ho said, nudging your arm.

you giggled. “thanks, i didn’t catch your name.”

“young-il.”

“young-il…” you tried it on your lips, it sounded right.

“i’ll see you around.” he winked before he got up, walking off to join the rest of the team.

after that interaction, you couldn’t seem to get him off your mind. somehow, someway, it always went back to in-ho. when you and him were apart, you keeping away from gi-hun, you would sneak glances at him. sometimes, he would even already be staring, making you a blushing mess as you tried to cover it up by looking elsewhere.

after the second game of ‘six-legged pentathlon’, you were sat on your bed with the team surrounding you, all eating the food they had given you.

at that point, gi-hun was fuming. you couldn’t deny that you haven’t been pissing him off but who was he to say anything? afterall, he was the one that abandoned you for this stupid game.

“y/n, finish your food.” gi-hun told you sternly when you left the remainders aside.

“i’m not hungry.” you said monotonously, not meeting his eyes.

“you’re not going to have energy to play the next game if you don’t.” he scolded, raising his voice.

“who cares?”

“y/n. finish it now.”

“or what? you’re gonna disappear again? are you gonna leave me again?” you retaliated, sneering when he didn’t reply.

suddenly, he shot up, grabbing you by the collad as he slammed you into the wall. you screamed, but was silenced when your head came into contact with the rough surface.

“enough, gi-hun!” you heared in-ho yell, “put her down!”

then, you were being dropped to the ground. in-ho ran towards you, grabbing a hold of you before you could fall.

“are you okay?” he asked, brushing your hair aside to see your face.

but you couldn’t reply. you could only look at the ground, tears hitting the floor underneath you.

in-ho couldn’t be assed about anything else at that moment, he gently escorted you to the exit which was heavily guarded. without a word, the guards opened the door, letting you and him both leave without question. maybe if he was in the right mind, he would have been more careful about blowing his cover, but luckily for you, he wasn’t.

in-ho walked you to the bathroom, effortlessly lifting you onto the sink. he took a moment looking at your pitiful form, he felt his heart break.

“can you look at me?” he whispered, waiting for permission before he lifting your chin with his fingers. “let me see your pretty face.”

as you locked eyes with him, you could feel the embarrassment bubbling in your stomach. you were so weak, so vulnerable now before him. “young-il…” you managed to choke out.

he didn’t need anything else, he knew exactly what you needed at that moment, leaning forward to pull you into his embrace. the second you had your head on his shoulder, you sobbed. no one, not even you, knew if he was because you were scared, or angry, or hurt, but he was everything you could feel at that moment and nothing else mattered.

a few minutes passed, when you eventually calmed down and pulled away, you let out a laugh. in-ho was confused, did he do something wrong?

“thank you, young-il.” you smiled sadly at the man before you.

internally, he let out a sigh of relief. “are you feeling better?”

you nodded. you lifted your hand, touching the back of your head, causing you to wince in pain. “shit.” you cursed under your breath as you looked at your hand, a small trace on blood left on it.

“c’mere.” in-ho instructed, inspecting your wound. “it’s okay, i think it’s just a graze.”

he helped you clean your wound, taking care of you like you were his own treasured item, each movement acted out with upmost care.

“he’s not always like that.” you broke the silence as he hummed. “i don’t know what this place has turned him into.”

but in-ho didn’t care, you had just given him another reason to carry out his plan against gi-hun.

when the two of you headed back to the room, gi-hun ran to you.

“i think you should leave her alone from now on.” in-ho stepped in when he got too close for his liking.

“but y/n-”

“fuck off.” maybe it was a little more than personal now, but either way, he didn’t like the idea of gi-hun coming close to you again.

that night, you slept with in-ho by your side, you cuddled up to his side as he sat still on the bed, careful not to move. in-ho didn’t sleep for the whole night, he was too busy admiring your sleeping form and savouring the feeling of you cuddled up next to him. it made him wonder if this could be what it could be like outside the games.

maybe the you and him would have an apartment, maybe even a dog. it would be the epitome of a perfect life. everynight after work he would come home to you, being welcomed by your hugs and kisses. he smiled hard even just from the thought of it.

much often, when his thoughts had gotten the better of him, he would place a kiss on your forehead or draw cute little patterns on your arm.

y/n, y/n, y/n, what were you doing to him?

[jhyoos]

Off Limits

chapter one : cold hearted snake

soccer player vi x talis reader

mentions : player vi, besti ekko, romance, lesbianism, modern au, college au, drama, abby tlou, ellie tlou, cheerleader reader, mention of sex, mentions of overdosing

notes: semi long chapter so get some snacks, turn your fan on and rub your feet together

edit: i ended up changing nyu to asu (arcane state university)

next chapter ->

"Jayce… don’t piss me off," you mumbled groggily, swatting at the air as you turned away from the light creeping in through the curtains. Your brother had this awful habit of waking you up early, and this time, it was no different. You groaned as you felt the edge of his foot on your nightstand, a clear sign that he wasn’t planning to leave until you gave him the attention he craved.

"Please, sis. Just tell me if they go good with my outfit. It's my junior year. I gotta look fresh," Jayce said, his voice high-pitched and over-the-top, just the way it always was when he was seeking validation.

You blinked open one eye, then the other, squinting up at him. The sight of his goofy grin—complete with his messy hair—did nothing to help the headache that was already forming. He was holding a pair of sneakers in one hand, his new must-have shoes for the school year.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. "Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you said flatly, trying to roll over and go back to sleep.

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. He let out an exaggerated sigh and plopped down on the edge of your bed, his body taking up far too much space. "Don’t go back to sleep, c’mon! It’s your first day here at ASU. You gotta make a statement," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, clearly proud of his well-meaning, annoying attempt to motivate you.

You cracked open an eye again, giving him a deadpan stare. "I don’t want to hear it, Jayce. You’re lucky I’m even awake right now."

Jayce chuckled, nudging you lightly with his foot. "Get up, you lazy bum. I need to know if this shirt works with my new kicks or not. It’s important!"

You sighed, sitting up slowly, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Looking at him—his eager face, his ridiculous outfit—wasn’t helping your mood. You glanced at his sneakers, then his shirt, then his whole vibe. Jayce looked like he was trying way too hard to impress everyone on his first day back. He had his typical “I’m cool” swagger on display, and you weren’t sure if you should laugh or just roll your eyes harder.

"Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you muttered, not really caring but knowing that was the answer he wanted to hear.

Jayce leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, all dramatic as he asked, "Really? I mean, really? You sure about that? ‘Cause I need you to be my fashion consultant today."

You shook your head, not even bothering to reply to his antics. You were too tired for this. But he wasn’t backing down. He was, after all, Jayce—a master at annoying people to no end.

"Don’t make me get Mom on the phone, you know she’s got the best opinions," he teased, but you could hear the hint of excitement in his voice. He wasn’t just annoying you for attention; he genuinely seemed to need your approval.

You shot him a glare. "If you don’t stop, I’ll tell Mom you’ve been wearing the same pair of socks for two days."

Jayce’s grin faltered, just for a second, before he playfully shoved your shoulder. "Low blow, sis. Low blow."

Finally, you could hear him sigh in defeat. "Fine. I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Get up, though! Or I swear, I’ll drag you out of bed myself."

You stared at him as he got up and headed toward the door, but not without another remark. "Oh, and don't even think about that raggedy bus today. We’re taking my car. And you're making a statement whether you like it or not."

The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, there was silence—glorious silence.

You glanced at the time on your phone. 5:47 AM. With a groan, you threw the covers off and rolled out of bed.

The thought of the first day at ASU made your stomach churn with nerves, but you couldn't show it. Not after all the teasing and endless talk of “making a statement” from your brother. You needed to at least pretend like you had it all together. So, with a loud sigh, you shuffled into the bathroom for a shower, hoping the cold water would wake you up enough to deal with the day ahead.

As you stood under the stream of water, you tried to clear your head. You'd never been one for drama, but here you were, starting college at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. It was supposed to be exciting. New people, new opportunities, new everything. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something much bigger than you were ready for.

Still, there was no turning back now.

You had spent your freshman and sophomore years in Italy, a place you quickly grew to love. It was a dream come true—walking cobblestone streets, sipping espresso in tiny cafes, and studying architecture and art history in a country that felt alive with culture and tradition. At first, you were nervous about being so far from home, but Italy embraced you with open arms, and soon, it felt more like home than your actual home ever had.

The plan had been simple: you would study abroad, and Jayce would come with you. Your mom had made it clear that he had the option to join you. “Think about it,” your mom had said, “two years of sibling bonding while experiencing a whole new world.” But, of course, Jayce had shrugged it off.

"Pass," he'd said without hesitation. "All my friends are here. Plus, who's gonna keep the soccer team alive without me?"

You’d rolled your eyes when he said it, but deep down, his refusal stung. He didn’t even consider it. And as much as you hated to admit it, part of you had wanted him there. Sure, he was annoying and constantly in your space, but he was also your big brother—the one who always knew how to make you laugh when you were stressed, the one who looked out for you when no one else did. Without him, you felt a little more alone than you were ready to admit.

But Italy had been a journey all its own. You’d found your rhythm there, made lifelong friends, and grown in ways you never expected. You learned to navigate bustling markets in Florence, spent lazy afternoons sketching by the canals in Venice, and even picked up enough Italian to argue with locals over gelato flavors. It wasn’t just a study abroad experience; it was a transformation.

Then, two years flew by faster than you thought they would. And just like that, it was time to say goodbye to everything you’d built in Italy. The narrow alleyways you knew like the back of your hand, the corner cafe where the barista always greeted you with a warm "Ciao, bella," and the friends who had become family. It wasn’t easy leaving it all behind, but the opportunity to finish your degree at home on a full-ride scholarship was too good to pass up.

There was one silver lining to returning home: Ekko. Your best friend since middle school. He’d been the one constant in your life before you left for Italy, and as much as you loved your new friends abroad, no one quite compared to Ekko. He was like a brother to you, but cooler than Jayce ever could be—not that you’d ever tell Jayce that to his face.

Ekko was in ASU with a full ride scholarship majoring in Engineering, balancing school with being on the soccer team alongside Jayce. The two of them had always been close, despite being complete opposites. Jayce was loud, confident, and always seeking the spotlight, while Ekko was more laid-back and analytical, content to let his skills speak for themselves. The idea of seeing them again—especially Ekko—was one of the few things keeping you grounded as you prepared to face New York after two years away.

After your last class wrapped up, you decided to head over to the campus coffee shop to grab something to eat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods hit you as soon as you walked in. You ordered an iced coffee and a bagel sandwich before making your way outside, where small tables with umbrellas dotted the courtyard.

Finding an empty table near the edge of the patio, you set your things down and took a seat. The campus buzzed around you as students chatted or hurried to their next destination. Sipping your coffee, you opened your book and began reading while occasionally taking bites of your sandwich.

As you lost yourself in the story, two hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders, making you jolt and nearly drop your sandwich. Your head whipped around, your heart racing, only to be met with a familiar face—Ekko.

“Holy—Ekko!” you exclaimed, standing up with a wide grin.

He laughed, his grin just as big as yours. “Surprise!”

Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I missed you so much,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Missed you too,” Ekko said, his arms wrapping around you firmly. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he took a good look at you.

You twirled around dramatically, giving him a full view of your outfit. His brows shot up in surprise as he took it all in. “Damn… Italy changed you in more ways than one. What happened to my (Y/N) who wore oversized hoodies and partied like a rockstar every other weekend?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “She’s dead, but I still love a good party,” you quipped.

Ekko leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed and a playful smirk on his face. “There’s gonna be a first-day bonfire tonight. Good music, new faces, and…” he paused for effect, “…Caitlyn Kiramman, the cheer captain, might be there. You could ask her about whether there’s a chance you’re on the team since you submitted that video for tryouts.”

Your face lit up with excitement. “You always come in clutch,” you said with a grin. “Only if you’re taking me, though.”

Ekko shook his head, his smirk turning into a sheepish grin. “Can’t. I’ve got a date for the bonfire.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Aw, really? Who’s the lucky girl?”

“A girl named Jinx. She’s in most of my classes. Thought she was cute, so I asked her out,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “She surprisingly said yes.”

“Surprisingly?” you teased, folding your arms and leaning toward him. “Please, Ekko, you’ve got more game than you think. Good for you, seriously.”

He chuckled, his cheeks dusted with a hint of pink. “Thanks, I guess. What about you? Got your eye on any girls here yet?”

You grinned mischievously, your voice dripping with confidence. “Always.”

Ekko leaned in slightly, his eyebrows raised. “Oh, really?” he asked teasingly.

“Yup. Vi,” you said with no hesitation. “She’s really hot—pink hair, tattoos on her back. God, I would love to take a ride on h—”

“Oh, fuck no,” Ekko interrupted, his voice sharp as his expression shifted to something between disbelief and warning.

You blinked, startled by his sudden tone. “What?!”

Ekko groaned, running a hand down his face. “She’s a player, (Y/N). I should know. She’s on the soccer team with Jayce. Don’t mess with her—you’ll get hurt. Real shit.”

You frowned, confused by his sudden seriousness. “What are you talking about? She seemed fine when I talked to her earlier.”

He pushed off the wall and crossed his arms again, his expression dark. “I’ve seen it happen. She’s got game, yeah, but not the kind you want. I don’t like the way she moves. I used to hang out with her, but I stopped for a reason. The only time I’m even around her is when Jayce is.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Okay, but maybe she’s different now.”

Ekko narrowed his eyes at you, unimpressed. “Look, I’m just saying—don’t let her mess with your head, (Y/N). You’re better than that. Just…be careful, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you appreciated his concern. “Fine, Dad.”

When you got home, Ekko’s warning was the last thing on your mind. Vi was texting you, and there was no way you were going to ignore her. She was too hot not to respond to. Balancing your bag on your shoulder and your coffee cup in one hand, you pushed the door shut with your foot. As soon as the door clicked behind you, you checked your phone again, a grin spreading across your face as you read her latest message.

Heading upstairs, you scrolled through the playful back-and-forth between you and Vi, feeling giddy. The attention she was giving you was addictive. You were so lost in the conversation that you didn’t notice Jayce stepping out of the bathroom until you nearly bumped into him.

He stood there with a towel slung around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the stupid grin on your face. “The fuck are you smiling about, dopey?” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “You look a little too gay right now.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him. “Ha, ha, hilarious,” you muttered, holding your phone a little closer as you tried to move toward your room.

But Jayce wasn’t going to let it go. He reached over and snatched the phone right out of your hand.

“Jayce! What the fuck!” you yelped, spinning around and reaching for it.

Jayce held it out of your reach, laughing as he glanced at the screen. But his laughter quickly died when he saw the name at the top of the conversation. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You’re fucking around with Vi?” he asked, his tone dripping with judgment.

“It’s the first day, so not yet, clearly,” you snapped, grabbing your phone back with an irritated glare.

Before you could retreat to your room, Jayce stepped in front of you, blocking your path. His expression shifted to something more serious, almost protective. “Whatever you’re doing with her, stop. She’s a close friend of mine, and she gets around, (Y/N). It’ll be awkward as hell, and on top of that, I’m not trying to get embarrassed by you.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him. “Whatever,” you muttered dismissively, though his words stung.

Jayce didn’t move from where he stood, following you with his eyes as you turned toward the stairs. “Hey, wait. Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

You stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah, Ekko has a date, so I need a ride. Can you take me? Mom and Dad still haven’t gotten me a car yet, so I’m stuck.”

Jayce shook his head immediately, folding his arms again. “Oh, you’re not going. No way. Vi’s gonna be there, and that’s officially off fucking limits.”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “What? What the fuck, Jayce! I can’t even go socialize?”

Jayce gave you a hard look. “You’re not going to socialize, (Y/N). I know how you are when it comes to alcohol and…other shit. Or do I need to call Mom and tell her you need to go back to Italy after I let you relapse?”

His words hit you like a slap. Your stomach dropped as anger flared in your chest, and your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Fuck you, Jayce,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of rage and hurt. “What a low blow.”

You yanked your arm out of his grip and stormed up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. You locked it for good measure, leaning against it as hot tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Outside the door, Jayce’s voice softened, guilt creeping into his tone. “Wait, sis… I didn’t mean it seriously,” he said, knocking lightly.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t even look at him right now.

When it became clear you weren’t going to answer, Jayce sighed. “Let me know if you want anything to eat when I get back,” he said quietly before walking away. The sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

While you sat on your bed, still upset over the argument with Jayce, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was a text from Vi.

Vi: Are you coming to the bonfire party? I wanna see you.

You hesitated for a moment before typing back.

You: Can’t. My brother’s not letting me go. And I don’t have a car. He was my only ride.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Vi: Well, I have a car. Give me your location and get ready. I’ll pick you up, beautiful.

A grin spread across your face despite everything, and you quickly sent her your location. Tossing your phone onto the bed, you sprang up and went straight to your closet. You scanned your options until you finally settled on a black fitted mini-dress paired with, a denim jacket draped off your shoulders, and chunky black boots. The look was edgy yet flirty—perfect for a night out.

You glanced in the mirror and realized your makeup was a mess from crying. Grabbing a makeup wipe, you cleaned up the smudges, reapplying your eyeliner and lipstick carefully. After smoothing out your hair and giving yourself one last look-over, your phone buzzed again.

“I’m parked outside the complex,” the text read.

“Shit,” you muttered, scrambling to find a cute bag. You tossed your phone, keys, wallet, and lip gloss inside, then rushed out the door.

As you left your apartment complex, you gave the doorman a quick wave. “Goodnight!” you called, like always.

“Have fun!” he replied with a knowing smile.

Outside, a sleek car idled by the curb. You spotted Vi leaning against the driver’s side, her pink hair glowing under the streetlights. She grinned when she saw you, and as soon as you slid into the passenger seat, she leaned over and kissed you.

You froze for a second, caught off guard, but then you melted into the kiss, returning it shyly. When she pulled back, her smirk was devilish.

“Nice place you live at,” she said, glancing at the complex as she started driving. “A friend of mine stays in one of these apartments. You must have a lot of money to live here.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Vi gave you a quick side glance, her smile softening. “Well, good for me. I like spoiled girls,” she teased.

As soon as you and Vi stepped onto the sandy beach where the bonfire party was in full swing, she casually draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. The heat of the fire reflected in her smirk as she held you there like she had no care in the world.

Immediately, you pulled away, glancing around to make sure no one—especially your brother—had noticed. “Stop,” you hissed, swatting at her arm. “You’re going to blow my cover. I’m not even supposed to be here, remember?”

Vi chuckled, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her ripped jeans, clearly enjoying your paranoia. “Fine, fine,” she relented. “But text me when you’re ready to leave.”

“Where are you going?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go find Jayce and keep him occupied,” she said with a smirk, already scanning the crowd. “Don’t worry, princess. I got you.”

“Cool,” you said with a nod before slipping away from her, weaving through the bodies of drunken students and the glow of the bonfire’s flickering flames.

Your eyes darted across the party until they landed on Ekko. He was in the middle of a crowd, dancing with a girl who had strikingly light blue hair, her movements wild and carefree as they swayed to the music.

“Hey, Ekko!” you called out over the sound of the music.

Ekko turned his head at the sound of your voice, a grin forming when he spotted you pushing through the crowd toward him. “(Y/N)!” He gestured for you to come closer. “This is Jinx. Jinx, this is (Y/N), my best friend since middle school.”

You smiled, sticking out a hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Instead of shaking your hand, Jinx’s face lit up, and she immediately pulled you into a tight hug. “Sorry, but I’m a hugger, girl,” she said, squeezing you before letting go. “And middle school? That’s so adorable!”

You chuckled. “Yep. We used to do chemistry projects together in high school and blow shit up. My parents had to pay millions.”

Ekko laughed, shaking his head. “Yup, we were menaces,” he agreed, nudging you playfully.

Jinx grinned, eyes flickering between the two of you. “I like you already.”

The party was loud, the music pulsing through the air as laughter and shouts filled the night. You were mid-conversation with Jinx when suddenly, a random frat guy shoved an opened Cayman Jack into your hands. The condensation from the bottle chilled your skin as you instinctively curled your fingers around it.

“Chug, pretty thang,” he slurred, grinning like he had just offered you the holy grail.

“Oh, um… no, it’s okay. I’m taking a break from drinking,” you said, trying to hand it back to him.

Instead of taking the rejection, he popped the cap off with his thumb and shoved it back toward you, his eyes wild with excitement. “Chug!” he chanted.

At first, it was just him, but soon, others joined in, the word picking up like a wave, echoing louder and louder around you. "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Ekko shot you a worried look, his lips parting as if he was about to intervene, but before he could, the pressure of a dozen eyes on you—waiting, watching, expecting—became too much. Without thinking, you tilted your head back and downed the entire drink, the carbonation burning your throat, the alcohol hitting your stomach like a rock.

“There, happy?” you said, shoving the now-empty can into the frat guy’s chest.

He let out a cheer, eyes gleaming with drunken satisfaction. Then, in a final act of bravado, he crushed the can against his forehead with a loud crack and stumbled off into the crowd.

Ekko’s hand was on your shoulder in an instant, his grip firm but gentle. “Fuck…” you muttered, your stomach twisting. Your fingers trembled slightly, your body already remembering the ghosts of your past. “I haven’t had a drink since I…”

Ekko rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll get you some water.” His voice was calm, but you saw the worry in his eyes. He turned to Jinx. “Watch her for me?”

Jinx gave a quick nod, her face uncharacteristically serious.

Ekko disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there with the taste of alcohol still lingering on your tongue.

“What’s wrong?” Jinx asked, tilting her head.

“I—I just…” Your voice faltered.

Before you could finish, a voice sliced through the noise, sharp and furious.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your stomach dropped. You turned to see Jayce standing a few feet away, his face twisted with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.

“I’m just hanging out, Jayce,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

Jayce scoffed, stepping closer. “(Y/N), I can smell the alcohol on your breath.” His eyes darkened, his voice tight with frustration. “Shit, dude—not even a whole two weeks and you’re already relapsing?”

Your throat tightened. “I’m not relapsing. I was just pressured into taking a drink by those stupid frat boys,” you argued.

“Bullshit,” Jayce snapped.

Ekko returned just in time, a bottle of water in his hand, but he barely had time to process what was happening before Jayce was right in your face again.

You barely heard him, your mind spiraling as the weight of his words sank in.

Yes, you were an addict in high school.

After your dad’s death, you took it harder than anyone else in your family. You fell in with the wrong people, numbing the pain however you could. The night you overdosed, you had been left in an alley, a needle in your arm, your body convulsing, vomiting, barely clinging to life.

Your mother couldn’t handle it anymore.

Instead of sending you to rehab, she sent you to Italy—far away, somewhere new, somewhere she hoped you could start over. And you did. You got therapy. You worked on yourself. You fixed yourself.

But now, standing here with Jayce looking at you like you were a failure, it felt like all that progress meant nothing.

His next words shattered whatever was left of your resolve.

“Go home,” he said coldly. “I don’t care how you get home—just go.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your vision blurring with tears.

Ekko’s hand found yours, squeezing it gently. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Jinx nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah, I’ll come too.”

You swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in your throat. “Thanks. Just—let me say goodbye to someone first.”

Ekko nodded. “Cool. We’ll wait by the car.”

He took Jinx’s hand, leading her toward the parking lot, leaving you alone in the middle of the party, feeling like the ground beneath you was slowly cracking apart.

You pushed through the crowd, weaving between sweaty, drunken bodies, the pulse of the music thrumming in your ears. The fire in the middle of the yard crackled, casting flickering orange light over the partygoers gathered around it. Your breath was shallow as you scanned the area, searching for Vi.

And then you saw her.

She was standing by the fire, her red hair illuminated by the flames, her toned arms flexing slightly as she laughed at something. But she wasn’t alone.

A girl with long blue hair stood close—too close. She traced her fingers up and down Vi’s arm, her nails dragging over the inked skin like she had every right to touch her. Vi smirked, that signature, cocky grin that made your heart race earlier in the night. But now, it only made your stomach twist.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, Vi grabbed the girl by the waist and pulled her in. Their lips crashed together in a deep, messy kiss—not just a casual peck, not like the ones you and Vi had shared. This was something more. Their bodies were flush, Vi’s hands gripping the girl’s hips, their mouths moving like they’d done this before.

You felt a lump in your throat, but not because you were heartbroken. No, this wasn’t heartbreak. It was disappointment.

Because everyone was right.

Vi was a player. A flirt. She wasn’t the kind of girl to settle down—not even for you.

Without a second thought, you turned away, pushing through the crowd with more force this time, ignoring the people who grumbled or stumbled in your wake. Vi didn’t even see you.

By the time you reached the car, Ekko and Jinx were already waiting.

“You good?” Ekko asked as you slid into the backseat.

You didn’t answer. You just stared out the window, watching as buildings and trees blurred past. The streetlights flickered across your face, casting shadows that stretched and disappeared.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t even feel angry.

You just felt disgusted.

For the first time in two years, that familiar, suffocating feeling crept back in—the one that made your skin crawl, the one that made you want to disappear.

taglist <3 : @mommymilkers0526 @rhian88 @wrappedinvines @nanajustnana-a @prettybunnyscorner @s7nburn @ghutzz4gutz @pornoangelz @veladeangl @chaengluva @hauntedbydreams @taurtel @lorasdolly @catvi6luvr @savedforlaterr @eggphobic @alex-thegiraffeboyy @artfairyyyyy @jordynhartley2001 @ellieslefttit @h0n3yf0rlif3 @rizzscary @bjjeweledx @cherrybomb2298

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“When I said I owed you,” you whisper and look over your shoulder. 

“Talk as quiet as you want, he’s got super hearing. Can’t even squeak out a silent but deadly with this guy,” Sam chuckles. 

“Wow, that’s gross,” you crinkle your nose. 

“I can be a nasty boy.” 

“Not better,” you give him an apprehensive look as you face him. “I saw him on the news.” 

“Hey, I was there too,” Sam chirps. 

“I know that but...” 

“He got a bit trigger happy. We’re just waiting for things to blow over. He needs a calming personality.” 

“So not you,” you retort. 

“No, not me. I’m into choking but not by him,” he snickers. 

“I can hear you,” the man leaning on the car hood snaps back as the sucker in his mouth hits his teeth. 

“Oh, I know,” Sam shoots a finger gun in his direction. “Also, he’s giving up smoking so he’s a bit testy.” 

“No, I spent eight hours in a car with you so I’m pissed off,” the grumbly sidekick hurls back. 

You look between them. Sam Wilson, the new Cap, superhero, avengers, comedian, and Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, assassin, and... mystery. You should refuse. You owe him but that much? A near-fugitive in your house? 

“Sam, I don’t exactly got a guest room,” you cross your arms. 

“Look, if the dame don’t wanna take me, don’t twist her arm,” Bucky sneers and bites into the sucker, scraping the stick with his teeth. “I can figure myself out.” 

“That’s what you said before the explosion. I’m not falling for it again, man,” Sam shoots back and shakes his head. He puts his hands on his hips and faces you. “You’re not just doing a service to me, but to America.” 

“Yes, okay, but this is Canada.” 

His eyes drift in realisation and his lashes flutter, “right, but we’re allies.” He looks at you again and smiles, “I thought Canadians were nice.” 

You roll your eyes. “Goddamnit. Fine.” 

“Like I said,” Bucky approaches, “I can go somewhere else. I don’t wanna be a burden.” 

“It’s not you,” you assure him. “There isn’t much space, that’s all. If you’re fine with that, so am I.” 

“I told him, it’s not a big deal,” Bucky huffs. “But he insists.” 

“I have to insist. I’m the Captain now.” 

“You keep saying,” he turns on Sam. “So why don’t you get that shield and we’ll see if you’re really up to that title.” 

“Alright, alright,” you step between them. You’re not a fan of conflict. Sam knows that and that’s why he brought him here. “No need to argue. You got a couch,” you look at Bucky then turn to the other man, “and you have a long ride home.” 

“Wait, you’re kicking me out?” Sam says. 

“If you stay any longer, I won’t stop him. I said he could stay, I said nothing about mediating whatever this is,” you wiggle your finger between them. 

Bucky snorts. He’s just as bad as Sam. They seem to only know how to goad the other.  

“Fair. I mean, you don’t want this guy getting any grumpier. He’s already such a treat,” Sam smirks. 

“Enough, I just told you,” you wag your index at him. “Well, nice to meet ya,” you turn and offer your hand to Bucky, “welcome to Canada.” 

“Thanks,” he says, though you can sense him staring down the other man. 

“Sam, have a safe trip. You need water or anything for the road?” You offer over your shoulder. 

“Nah, I think I’m good. A nice ride home alone. With good music. Think I’m set.” He cackles. 

“You wouldn’t know good music if it shot you in the face,” Bucky growls. 

“Dude, go get your bag out of my car,” Sam snips. “Good riddance, is what I say.” 

“Drive safe,” you shake your head as you walk toward the house. “I was in the middle of something.” 

You climb the porch steps and leave the inner door open as the screen door snaps shut behind you. Out of sight, you stop to shake off the adrenaline. You only realise then how the unexpected rival stirred you up. You weren’t ready for Sam but especially not a houseguest. Still, the only reason you have this place is because of that man. You can do this. 

You take a breath and go back to the kitchen. If Sam trusts Bucky, you can too. You’re not one to welcome in strangers, especially men, but this is different. And even if he asked, it wasn’t much of a choice. 

You wash your hands and dry them before pushing your sleeves back up. The striped button-up isn’t exactly your Sunday best. You add breadcrumbs to the bowl of raw beef as you hear footsteps on the porch. The door opens slowly and gently hits the frame. You listen to your guest as he sighs in the entryway. 

The house is small. One-floor, a single bedroom, a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen with a small dining table that doubles as your workspace. It isn’t much, but it’s yours. And it’s history. Your family’s. 

You sense him hovering just outside the doorway. You glance behind yourself and hang your hands over the brim of the bowl. You still need to chop the veggies but that can wait. It isn’t his fault Sam decided this would be the balance in the scales. 

“Let me show you around.” You cross the kitchen as he peers through.  

His beard is dark, his hair overgrown and pushed back behind his ears, and tugs at the bottom of his denim jacket. He looks skittish as you approach. He has a duffel bag in his hand. 

“Look, sorry if I came off short. You know how Sam can be,” you say. 

“I do. He assumes a lot,” he mutters. 

“Sure does. So, like I said, it’s not a big house. Kitchen here,” you point over your shoulder, “living room behind you, bathroom down the hall and the bedroom. There’s a back door. Yard’s bigger than the house.” 

“Got it.” 

“So, you’ll have to camp out on the couch but good news, it’s from 1987 so it folds out,” you squeeze by him and lead the way into the front room. 

“Beats a full barracks,” he comments. 

You nod and peek over at him. “Guess that makes sense.” 

He sniffs, “thanks. Really.” 

“Again, not too much,” you gesture to the room. “I gotta finish the meatloaf.” 

“Think I can handle it,” he affirms. 

[no-144444]

the grid: late for a date!

Day 29 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar Piastri: miscommunication

So, it wasn’t a date. As much as you thought it was, Lando showed up. That wasn’t uncommon for your ‘dates’ to turn into ‘Oscar and Lando time’, but it still pissed you off. You just wanted one night with your boyfriend. Not Lando’s.  

You huffed as you sat down at your vanity, carefully cleaning off your face with a wipe. 

“You’re annoyed,” Oscar stated, leaning against the door and watching you. 

“I’m not,” you sighed, truthfully just wanting to be left alone. 

“You clearly are,” he said matter-of-factly. “Talk to me.”

“I thought it was a date,” you explained sheepishly. “I was a little disappointed when Lando showed up. I thought it was just us two, y’know, since we haven’t gone out ‘just us’ in months.”

He sighed and looked down. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Osc, it's fine. I’m just much annoyed with myself that I didn’t properly read the text-”

“But we should go out, just the two of us. You’re right,” he realised how little he takes you out. “Why don’t you talk to me about this?” 

“You have a lot going on,” you shrugged. “I’m not going to add to it by being a bitch about shit like this.” 

“You’re never a bitch,” his heart ached a little, how could you ever think that he’d ever be annoyed by you? He wrapped his arms around you , pressing soft kisses to your neck and whispering apologies. “I love you so much, I want to be with you as much as possible. Lando was just lonely and called me, so I said yes. I’ll say no in future, yeah?”

You nodded, feeling a lot more loved than before. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Lando norris: he forgot. 

It had been weeks in the planning, you both were ecstatic to get to enjoy your favourite restaurant in Brazil. You sat there for 2 hours. In the end you ordered stuff to take out and left a hefty tip for the inconvenience of your boyfriend. You texted and called him at least 20 times. No fucking answer. 

When you got back to the hotel, he wasn’t there either and you started getting worried. Could he be hurt? Surely he wouldn’t forget the important date, he remembered about it last week. 

You called Oscar, scared that Lando was lying in a ditch somewhere or something. 

“Hey Y/n,” his voice came from the other side of the phone. Distantly you could hear the sound of house music playing loudly. 

“Is Lando with you?” You asked. 

“Well, he was a while ago, but now he’s going back to the hotel,” he explained. “Why?”

“Just wanted to check on you guys,” you sighed, unable to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “You all good?” 

“Yeah, I’m with Alex and Zhou, we’re just outside the club now, we’re safe, promise,” he smiled into the phone. 

“Alright, well, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Be careful,” you reminded him. 

“We will,” he nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

As you hung up the phone, the door swung open and Lando appeared. Dishevelled but there. 

“Baby I am so sorry I forgot about-“

“It’s fine,” you sighed, used to the excuses by now. “It’s whatever, Lando.”

“Baby, come on, let me make it up to you,” he tried again, but you stayed unchanged on the topic. 

“Something will always be more important to you,” you mumbled. “And every single time it kills me. And I just let it. Because sadly, I love you so much that I let you treat me like this.”

“Baby that’s not-“

“We planned this months ago, Lando. And I put so much fucking effort in to looking nice for you, and you don’t show. I was so excited to have one fucking night where I wasn’t dating Lando Norris, Championship Fighter, McLaren Number One, McLarens saviour. One fucking might where I could just be a girl who got to dress up night for her boyfriend, who showed up to the date. One night when we could be normal people, that’s what I wanted, Lando.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I have a lot on my mind…”

“Yeah, you do. Maybe we should break up.”

“W-what? You don’t mean that, right baby? Come on, I’m- we’re- you’re the best thing that’s ever fucking happened to me. I don’t wanna lose you-“

“Yeah and you don’t want to have me either! Lando, I do fucking everything for you, I’m so fucking understanding every single time you disappoint or fucking annoy me. I understand that you're going through shit, and I’m here to help you. But I cannot deal with this disrespect anymore, alright? I am worth something! Right? Like, I have to be worth more than what you’re giving me, right?” You said, breaking down. Your plan had been to just keep calm and talk tomorrow, but that clearly flew out the window. 

“I love you-“

“Do you?! Really?!”

You were both silent. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Lewis Hamilton: he forgot

The silence was deafening in your shared home. You sat at the table, all dressed up with nowhere to go. 

“Baby, I know I-“

“Just fuck off,” you sighed. “Go back to work, or whatever it was that held you up.”

“I wanna make it up to you, I’m sorry baby,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around you. 

You took a deep breath. “I just wanted one night,” you sighed and he nodded, feeling guiltier by the second. “Away from work and the kids, just one fucking night Lewis.”

“How about a weekend? We drop the kids off at Natalie’s and we can go away for the weekend?” He offered and pressed a kiss to your cheek.. 

“We’re busy this weekend.”

“Cancel it.”

“Cancel my promotion dinner?” You scoffed. “Cancel Ellie’s football match? Cancel half the grid coming over? Cancel Nick’s karting race?” You quested, listing off the things you had to supervise for the weekend. 

He sighed. “I’m sorry baby, I forgot-“

“Yeah. You forgot. You keep fucking forgetting,” you groaned. “I just… I want some time. I’m pissed off right now and I just want to go to bed.”

“I’ll put the kids to bed,” he nodded. “I’m sorry again.”

“You’re always sorry Lewis. Just be there, for once,” you took a deep breath. “If not for me, then for our children. Don’t ruin the relationship because of your busy schedule.” 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

George Russell: you forgot...

You walked into your shared apartment, exhausted after work. 

“Hey darling,” he smiled, taking your bags out of your hands. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks love,” you smiled. Then you noticed the suit he was wearing. “You look handsome, what’s the occasion?”

His face fell. “Did you forget?” 

Shit. You did. The fucking anniversary dinner. “No! Just joking!” You laughed. “Give me like 20 minutes to get ready, yeah?”

He smiled. “Alright, just remember our reservations are in a little while.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

You completely forgot about the plans. No gift. No dress. Nothing. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You sat at dinner, somehow throwing together something, only to find out it wasn’t a fucking date, but a surprise birthday party. 

Your anniversary is months away. 

“Sorry baby,” he smiled, not one bit sorry. 

“I was terrified! I thought I’d fully forgotten!” You whined, rolling your eyes. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, a promise for more later. 

“I'm sorry darling,” he added, a small wink in one eye as he pulled you into the dance floor. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Alex Albon: genuinely injured

You sat in his apartment, waiting for him to finally show his face. He was 40 minutes late, and while this wasn’t a huge deal, you had made dinner which had gone cold, plus you felt your time should be at least worth a text. 

The door finally opened and Alex walked through, well, uncoordinatedly crutched into the room, a huge boot covering his foot. 

“Holy shit, Alex,” you cursed, shocked at the sight in front of you. He blushed slightly. 

“Yeah… accident prone, or whatever my mum called me. I have a few weeks off,” he chuckled. 

“What happened?” you asked, just staring down at the boot. 

“Funny story, Lando-”

“Of fucking course it was you,” you scoffed, looking at the guilty Lando standing beside him. 

“Lando accidentally ran over my foot,” he finished. 

“With what?” you asked, wondering if it was a bike or something, surely Lando was an experienced enough driver to have not driven over Alex’s foot. 

“A car,” Oscar explained. “Twice.” 

You saw red, turning your attention to Lando. “You fucking idiot!” you seethed. You chuckled. “How fucking stupid are you?”

He just giggled and shrugged. “Very?” he offered as an answer. 

“Thank you for bringing him home, now please leave before you cause any more bodily harm,” you sighed, showing Lando the door. You weren’t really mad, just shocked. 

“I’m sorry I was late,” he sighed, sitting on the couch. 

You chuckled. “You don’t have to apologise for that,” joining beside him. “I’m sorry you broke your foot.”

“Lando broke my foot,” he corrected and you just laughed and pressed your lips against his. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Daniel Riccardo: he forgot 

You walked into your shared apartment with your head held low. He’d forgotten your anniversary. 

“Baby? Where have you been? Are you alri- you look beautiful,” he stood up, walking over to you. You looked up and he saw the tears streaming. That sinking feeling he’d had all day, the one that told him he forgot something, it finally clicked. He’d forgotten the date. 

“Do you know how humiliating it is when someone stands you up? Do you know how humiliating it is when that gets fucking paparazzied?”

He gasped, no way you’d been subjected to the paparazzi. “Baby I’m so-”

“Sorry? Sure, I  believe  you,” you scoffed. “Just leave me be.”

You walked off to your bedroom and he was left to think about how he could pick up the broken pieces. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Charles LeClerc: he’s just being a dick. 

At least he remembered the date, but the fact that he’s sitting on his phone the entire time is literally gaining you pity smiles from other girls in the restaurant. When you went to the bathroom, two girls literally called him a ‘fucking asshole’ for what he’s doing to you, and gave you their numbers so you could be friends and bitch about him. 

“Charles,” you sighed, looking down at your bowl of pasta. You weren’t exactly hungry anymore, and now you just wanted to go home instead of being publicly humiliated like this. 

He looked up from his phone for a split second. “Yeah?” straight back down. 

“Are you going to eat any time soon?” you sighed, looking at his full plate. 

He looked at his food, then picked up a fry and ate it. “Eating, see?”

You rolled your eyes. “I want to go home.” 

He finally put down his phone. “But we are having a nice date, no?” 

“A ‘nice date’ usually includes talking of some sort, and maybe just a little bit of attention from my boyfriend,” you gritted out. “This is what I was talking about, if you don’t have time for me, I’d understand Charles. Just don’t waste my time like this.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry-”

“Sorry isn’t cutting it anymore Charles, I’m not just going to wait here forever like some little fangirl who’s just ‘so blessed’ to be dating the Charles LeClerc. I love you, not you being a racing driver, not you being a model, not anything else. I love you, Charles. And I’m starting to feel like you don’t love me back.” 

“Mon ange, please listen-”

“I’m done listening, I’ll see you at home,” you said and got up, actually receiving a clap from the two girls you’d met in the bathroom. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Max Verstappen: circumstances end it. 

You called again. And again. And again. 

No answer. As always. 

Long distance was hard, it was always going to be. Max didn’t need to make it any harder by not showing up for your phone-dates. He hadn’t called in months. He hadn’t seen you in over a year. He hadn’t done anything. He was never the first to call or text. He was never the one making the effort. He made you feel like a burden. He made you feel like shit. 

Max: Busy sorry. Can’t make it tonight. 

You: Don’t bother calling again. We’re done. 

Max: What are you talking about???

You: There’s always something more important than us. There’s always something you’d rather do. I’m so done with this shit Max. I want a boyfriend, not a fucking pen pal. I want a boyfriend who texts and calls me back. I want a boyfriend who asks about my day. I want someone who actually cares about me. 

Max: I care about you! Alright, just let me call you later, I’m at HQ right now

You: Max. I. Am. Done. Don’t fucking call me, don’t text me, don’t visit me. Let me live my life in peace. 

Max: Is that really what you want?

A tear fell down your cheek as you read the message. You wanted Max, but you knew you could never truly have him, he’d always be married to his craft, always be more in love with winning than he’d ever been with you. 

You: Yes. 

You have now blocked this user. 

You had to think about yourself.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi@linnygirl09@lanadelray1989@teamnovalak@gleeblegnarp

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part fourteen

Now, listen. Is it really a honeypiehotchner fic if something wildly dramatic doesn't happen around this time in the story? Buckle up!

Warnings: angst, I don't want to spoil but for the sake of triggers there is a car wreck in this one (everyone is fine!!!), and a slightly sensual moment (you'll see hehe), also probably some incorrect info about cars...just go with it

It’s not until Hotch exits off the interstate onto the small four-lane highway to avoid traffic that you speak again. It’s been over an hour.

“Did Rossi tell you?” 

It’s not the question Hotch expects, but he jumps to his friend’s defense all the same. “No, no he didn’t.”

You don’t say anything.

When you do, it’s what he expects. That same white hot anger you’ve always had around him.

“I don’t even know if I want to know how you found out,” you begin, voice so calm that if it weren’t for how well he knows you, he wouldn’t necessarily think you’re so beyond pissed off with him. “I’m assuming it’s just going to piss me the fuck off.”

Probably, he thinks. Out loud, he says, “I read your file.”

“You read everyone’s file. I got that part. What I’m still trying to wrap my head around is the fact that I had most of it sealed — for good fucking reason, and with the permission of the goddamn Section Chief — and yet you went behind my back, behind Strauss’s back, and dug your nose around where it doesn’t fucking belong.”

“I’m—”

“If you say you’re sorry, Aaron, I’m actually going to punch you in the face.”

He stays quiet. He deserved that one. 

He always thought that you’d never call him by his first name, probably out of spite because he uses yours perhaps too often. He never imagined it would be in this way, said with such distaste each time that it makes him feel cold inside.

You finally move, then, your hand reaching up to rub your forehead. “I just don’t understand.”

And Hotch, helpless and desperate, lets his emotions get the better of him again. “What was I supposed to do? You wouldn’t tell me the truth.”

“Because you hadn’t fucking earned it!” you shout. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t trust you with that kind of information about me — and it seems like I was fucking right to not tell you. Because you just—” You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he argues. Around and around the cycle goes. The arguing will never stop between the two of you, will it? “Because this is serious.”

“You think I don’t know that?” you almost laugh. “My whole life it’s been this serious so don’t act like I don’t know what I’m doing. I can handle myself and I can handle this— whatever this is.”

“It won’t kill you to let someone help—”

“Maybe not someone who has actually earned my trust.”

That stings, though he has no right to be hurt by it. He nods once and keeps his mouth shut.

Until he can’t. “I know you’re upset with me and you have every right to be,” he pauses to hold up his hand, stopping you when you open your mouth to say something else. “But I didn’t know what else to do. It was clear after Richard first recognized you that it caused something to resurface— you couldn’t breathe. I knew then that your safety and well-being was at risk and yes, I will admit, I made a mistake going behind your back to read what you had sealed, but—”

“Hotch, stop,” you interrupt.

He sighs. He’ll never be able to get this all off of his chest if you two can’t stop interrupting one another. “Can I please just finish what I was—”

“No, seriously,” you say, voice deadly serious. “How long has that car been behind us?”

Hotch doesn’t move his head a single inch as he glances up in the rearview mirror. It’s the same car that was there when he exited the interstate. “A few miles. Why?”

“I don’t know,” you chew on your bottom lip, keeping yourself facing forward. “Just a gut feeling.”

You almost think he’s going to have some snide remark about your gut feeling again, but he doesn’t.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“Take a right— Don’t use your blinker,” you keep your voice low, as if the person in the car behind you can hear.

Hotch does as you ask, taking a sharp right onto a two-lane highway. The car behind you jerks as the driver takes the same turn at the last second, nearly putting the back tires in the ditch. You watch with narrowed eyes as they speed up, getting so close to your back bumper that Hotch can barely see them in the rearview.

“This thing has lights and sirens, right?” you ask, just curious and thinking ahead. 

Hotch nods. “I can see him.”

“It’s a man?”

“I think,” Hotch says, glancing in the rearview again. “White male, maybe mid-40s. Hard to tell. He’s wearing sunglasses and a hat.”

“Do we need to call someone?”

“No,” he says. “Not yet.”

You both sit in silence as you analyze the car. It’s beat to hell, an older model of something you can’t place. But it was once blue, that you can kind of tell in between all of the rust and peeling. It has to be something from the early 90s.

Hotch drives exactly the speed limit, testing how the driver reacts. Up ahead, the solid yellow lines turn dotted. Hotch slows, hoping it’ll persuade the driver into passing, and you two can move on with your earlier conversation.

But it does the opposite.

Instead, the car stays what has to be mere centimeters away from the back bumper. No one else is on the road, so the man’s window to pass is wide open, yet he doesn’t take it.

“We can’t pull him over for tailgating,” you say.

“No, but if he hits us, we can,” Hotch replies, irritation starting to settle into his jaw.

“Don’t cause a wreck on purpose.”

“I’m not trying to do it on purpose.”

You both huff and glare into your respective side mirrors.

The car speeds up.

“What the fuck,” you hiss.

Hotch speeds up because he’s forced to, because believe it or not he doesn’t want to get in a wreck today, but the car stays right on your ass. 

“What the hell is his problem?” you curse under your breath.

“I don’t know,” Hotch answers absentmindedly, now fully glaring at the guy in the rearview. “But I’ve had enough.”

Hotch reaches up and flicks the lights and sirens on. You both expect the guy to immediately slam on his brakes and swerve to speed around you, panicking at the realization that he’s tailgating a government vehicle, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he slows down with you, and pulls into the oncoming lane, just to ride right next to you.

You can make out his face through the tinted windows, despite his sunglasses. You don’t recognize him, though, and neither does Hotch.

His familiarity quickly doesn’t matter at all when he rolls his window down and points a pistol in your direction.

“Hotch!” you shout, ducking down on instinct. You know the BAU vehicles have bulletproof glass, but you don’t exactly want to test the theory.

Hotch slams on the brakes, letting the other car fly ahead of you just as two shots ring out, missing you thanks to Hotch’s quick thinking.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” you ask, not at all expecting an answer as you unclip your holster just in case you need to get your gun out quickly.

Hotch stays silent amidst your panicked statements. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out where to go from here. He’s calm under pressure just like he always is.

You notice the predicament at the same time he does. There’s nothing but thick woods on either side of this road. You’re not exactly close to any sort of civilization for anyone to hear these shots and think something is wrong.

You keep your eyes glued to the car up ahead, watching in horror as it slows to a stop, and then the fucking back up lights switch on.

“Hotch,” you warn.

“Yeah, I see him,” Hotch mutters, turning the sirens off. You hadn’t even realized they were still wailing. He leaves the lights on. “Are you buckled?”

“What?”

Hotch glances over to check and says, “Good.”

“Hotch, what the fuck are you—”

He revs the engine and flies forward, your seat belt locking and pinning you in place, rapidly approaching the car as it reverses toward you. You brace yourself for the impact, mentally cursing Hotch for how stupid this is, but the car in front swerves at the last second.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” you shout as you whiz past the car.

Hotch glances in the mirrors, waiting for the man’s next move. To no one’s surprise, he puts the car in drive and races after you.

“Do you have a better idea?” Hotch snaps, going well over the speed limit now, but the car behind you is rapidly gaining speed.

“Yes, I do,” you deadpan. “Fucking— Put it in cruise control and move your seat back as far as it’ll go.”

“What?”

“Just do it,” you unbuckle, taking your gun out of its holster and sticking it barrel down into the cup holder. That’ll have to do, it’ll just get in the way on your hip.

Hotch does as you ask, setting the cruise control and pushing his seat all the way back.

Without giving either of you time to say a damn word about it, you crawl over the console and clamber into Hotch’s lap, moving the steering wheel up as you go to make more room. 

Hotch tenses behind you, but says nothing, only widening his legs underneath you to offer as much space as possible. You get your feet on the pedals as best you can and flick the cruise control off, speeding up to what has to be an impossible speed for this car to do. You’re nearing 90 miles an hour, but it seems to do fine.

Your breath hitches when you feel Hotch’s arms slide around your waist.

He must’ve heard it because, quietly, he says, “You’re not wearing a seatbelt.”

You roll your eyes. That’s the least of your worries right now, and frankly, a lousy excuse.

“Can you see his tag?” you ask, watching the car inch closer and closer. “Should we call Garcia? Someone?”

“There’s no service,” Hotch replies.

“Fucking great,” you mutter, shifting in his lap, and—

For fuck’s sake. There’s no way.

You keep your realization to yourself, figuring Hotch is probably well aware of just how hard he is underneath you. He’s only human, you suppose, and you are pressed tightly against him, shifting in his lap as you keep an eye on the car behind you.

It’s a little bit of an ego kick, you’ll admit. You’ll use this as ammo later — if the two of you make it out of this.

The car speeds around you, coming to ride side-by-side again. Except this time before he can raise his gun, you swerve, grazing his car, attempting to push him off the road.

“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” Hotch asks, almost involuntarily.

“Shut up,” you say through a smirk. “Not important.”

The man has the same idea, pushing back against you, but your SUV is bigger than his, so it doesn’t take much to cut him off, forcing him to stop. 

The second you have him pinned in the ditch, though, he reverses and swerves around you, trying to get away.

“Absolutely the fuck not.” You flick the sirens back on, fully prepared to pull this guy over or at the very least alert other law enforcement the second you get into the next town.

Hotch’s arms tighten around your waist slightly, his erection still prominent underneath you. You’ll unpack later why the thrill of this has you unconsciously wanting to rock your hips against him. 

For the record, you don’t give in to the urges. You have some self restraint.

The man is clearly trying to get away from you now, though, speeding like crazy without even thinking about slowing down. But you’re not letting him get away that easily, not after he pulled a gun on you.

Hotch digs his phone out, keeping one arm secure around your waist while his free hand dials Garcia. 

“Your oracle of all things know—”

“Not now Garcia,” you say. “Can’t explain right now— I need you to run a tag for me.”

“Shoot.”

Hotch reads off the tag as you get close enough to the car, both of you waiting in silence — aside from the wailing sirens — as Garcia runs the tag.

“It was reported stolen three weeks ago, it’s— Wait, that’s— That doesn’t make any sense—” Garcia cuts herself off, then gasps. “It’s Carly Henderson’s car.”

“That’s—” You know the name. Why?

“She was murdered by the last unsub,” Hotch answers.

“Right she was,” Garcia replies sadly. “I’ve triangulated your location and I’m notifying the closest police department.”

“Thanks Garcia,” Hotch says.

“Guys,” she hesitates. “What’s going on?”

“We don’t know,” you answer. “But it’s—” The line beeps as the call drops.

“Lost service,” Hotch explains with a curse. “What’s your plan?”

“Tailgate this guy until I can send him into a ditch for good,” you reply simply. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” You press harder on the gas.

Hotch wraps his other arm back around your waist, keeping you secure against him. You let yourself lean back, relaxing as best you can in this kind of situation.

All you can do right now is follow this guy until he—

“Shit!” You notice his brake lights too late, though with how fast you’re going, there isn’t much room for this kind of error. 

A head-on collision is the worst case scenario at the speed you’re going and where you’re sitting in Aaron’s lap, and your instincts know that, so you swerve as soon as you can, but you don’t slam on the brakes. You clip the edge of his car, but it’s enough. It’s enough to send your vehicle rolling into the woods. 

All you can register are the wailing of the sirens, the tightness of Aaron’s grip around your waist, pulling you back toward him and away from the airbags as they release, the force of them stinging your skin but keeping you from busting your head open on the wheel or the windshield. You don’t know how many times the car rolls, just that it feels like you’re falling and falling and falling until you’re not. 

By some miracle, it lands upright, so it’s easy for Aaron to unlock and kick open the door. You’re frozen against him, leaving him no choice but to exit the car with you in his arms.

The second your feet hit the grass, though, you run. You can’t explain why. You aren’t even trying to, but you do, sprinting toward the road, looking for the other car, but it’s long gone, barely a speck on the horizon.

Sirens scream in the distance — or are those still coming from your SUV? You can’t tell. Maybe it’s the ringing in your ears.

Hotch comes up the grassy incline, his phone pressed to his ear as he speaks to…to whoever he’s calling. Garcia, maybe?

“Yes, we need an ambulance,” Hotch says, his eyes scanning your face, concern coming in waves. “I think I’m alright, it’s my partner—”

Your knees buckle on their own, but Hotch is there, his arm reaching out to steady you.

In the haze of it all, you remember you’re mad at him. You’re supposed to be pissed at him. And you are. But you can’t stand up. Why can’t you stand up?

You shove his chest, but it’s the weakest attempt ever to get him away, and he doesn’t budge, ever a steel wall of muscle.

“Alright, thank you,” Hotch says into the phone. “I think I can hear them now.”

Hear what?

Your eyes blink slowly, pain starting to settle in random places. Your arms, your head, your feet. You look down at your arms and find them streaked with red. You don’t remember any windows breaking, but you hardly remember the car rolling as far as it did.

“You’re okay,” Hotch says, voice soft against the ringing in your ears. He holds your arms gently, not caring about your blood staining his fingers. “You’re in shock.”

You shake your head, finally letting yourself look at the car. It’s totaled, absolutely, the windshield shattered and other windows cracked. The driver’s side door is bent, but not much. The passenger side is crushed to hell where the car hit the tree. If you had been in the passenger seat still, you’d be—

The ambulance sirens grow louder as they come closer, skidding to a stop near you. The paramedics jump out and you faintly hear Hotch shouting out to them, explaining something, something about she’s in shock and she might be concussed.

“Ma’am,” the medic tries to get your attention. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

“Kinda…?” you blink slowly, wondering why it’s suddenly getting so dark outside, until you realize it has nothing to do with the weather. Your hand grips Hotch’s forearm tightly. “Hotch, I— I can’t see.”

“Okay, you’re okay,” Hotch shushes you, gathering you back into his arms and carrying you across the grass. “Stay awake, keep squeezing my arm.”

You do, because you can’t stop, the anxiety keeps you from letting go. You don’t know what’s worse, blacking out completely or only halfway like this. You’re awake and fully aware as you’re laid down onto the gurney in the back of the ambulance. You’re aware of the oxygen mask coming to rest over your nose, realizing only after the medic tells you to try to breathe normally that you hadn’t been breathing at all.

“She has panic attacks,” you hear Hotch say, and then he squeezes your hand once. “Are you still awake?”

You nod, unaware of if your eyes are open or closed at this point because it’s all still so dark, but you squeeze Hotch’s hand for dear life all the same.

“Just keep breathing,” Hotch says. 

You hear him rattle off your allergies and you distantly think he’s unbelievable for remembering and knowing them by heart.

“You’re okay,” he says again. “Just stay awake and keep breathing.”

[noorpersona]

Managerial Duties: Nekoma

"Absolutely not."

Yamamoto lets out a dramatic groan, throwing his head back as if you’d just crushed his dreams with a single stomp. “C’mon, manager! The captain of the boys’ soccer team was pissing me off, and I just thought we could flaunt the fact that we have a hot girl manager!”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “I’m going to not try and take that as an offensive statement.”

“But think about it! If we show off our amazing manager—who, by the way, is way cooler than any other team’s manager—those other guys will be so distracted, their defenses will crumble before we even start playing!”

Yaku lets out an exasperated groan, smacking Yamamoto upside the head. “Do you hear yourself? You sound like an idiot.”

“I’m thinking strategically!” Yamamoto argues, rubbing the back of his head with a deep frown. “It’s all about getting in their heads before the match even starts! They’ll be so busy staring, they won’t know what hit them!”

Kuroo, who had been listening in with an entertained smirk, finally cuts in. “You sure that’s gonna work? Sounds more like you’re the one who gets distracted by a cute face, Yamamoto.”

“Hey, hey, hey! This isn’t about me!” Yamamoto quickly defends, flailing his arms as Kenma sighs beside him, eyes still glued to his game. “This is about our team having a clear mental advantage.”

Kenma lets out a slow breath, thumbs lazily pressing at his screen. “I don’t think anyone is intimidated by your ‘mental strategies.’”

You cross your arms, fixing Yamamoto with a deadpan stare. “So, your plan is for me to just… stand around looking pretty while you all practice?”

Yamamoto brightens. “Exactly! You just have to stand there, maybe flip your hair a little—”

“Okay, you can stop talking now.” You cut him off, shaking your head as Kuroo bursts into laughter beside you.

“C’mon, manager, just think about it!” Yamamoto pleads. “You wouldn’t even have to do anything extra! Just be your natural, intimidating self!”

“I don’t think standing still counts as intimidation,” you reply flatly. “And I already have an actual job managing you guys. I don’t need to add ‘team mascot’ to the list.”

Kuroo drapes an arm lazily over your shoulder, grinning. “Oh, but what if we paid you extra?”

You raise an eyebrow. “With what money?”

“Uh.” Kuroo blinks, looking to the rest of the team. “Yamamoto, do you have money?”

“I might have enough for a convenience store snack,” he mutters, checking his pockets. “But that’s beside the point!”

“You hear that?” You turn to Yaku, feigning disappointment. “They were gonna bribe me with convenience store snacks.”

“Pathetic,” Yaku agrees, shaking his head.

Yamamoto throws his hands in the air. “Fine, forget the money! This isn’t about bribery, it’s about team pride! Think about it! The Nekoma basketball team has a manager, the badminton team has one, even the track team has one—but none of them have a hot girl manager! But you’re here! We can use that to our advantage! We can—”

“Yamamoto.” You cut him off again, your patience thinning. “If I hear one more word about me ‘flaunting myself,’ I’m making you run extra laps after practice.”

Yamamoto stiffens, mouth snapping shut immediately.

Kai, who had been quietly observing, finally speaks up. “Yamamoto, maybe try thinking of a plan that doesn’t involve embarrassing our manager?” His voice is calm, but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Lev grins, nudging Fukunaga. “I dunno, I think it’s kinda funny.”

Fukunaga smirks before leaning in and whispering something to Lev, who immediately bursts out laughing.

Yamamoto groans. “See? At least some of you get it!”

“Not really,” Kai corrects. “We just enjoy watching you dig yourself into a hole.”

The silence is almost peaceful—until Kuroo nudges your side again. “Still,” he muses, a teasing glint in his eye. “You do look pretty intimidating when you’re pissed.”

“Well, maybe you guys should stop pissing me off.”

Kuroo snorts before shaking his head. “Yeah, right.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “If I quit being manager, you all only have yourselves to blame.”

Kenma hums, finally looking up from his game. “Yeah, but you won’t.”

You glance at him, frowning. “How do you know?”

He shrugs. “Because you care too much.”

The rest of the team goes quiet. Even Kuroo, ever the instigator, doesn’t argue. Yamamoto looks at you hopefully. Yaku smirks. Kai shakes his head fondly, and Fukunaga snickers at whatever he just whispered to Lev, who is still laughing.

You sigh again, rubbing your temples for what feels like the hundredth time that day. “I’m still not doing it. Now get off your asses, we have work to do.”

Yamamoto groans in defeat. Kuroo chuckles. And Yaku pats your shoulder with a satisfied nod. “That’s our manager.”

[incrtz]

How many times will it take..?

Part One

Pairing ⋆ sick! gojo x past lover! reader

Summary ⋆ You and Gojo have a past, but you still dislike him. ‘Unfortunately’, The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer managed to get sick & Yaga asks you to look after him. Will you & Gojo finally make it official?

Warnings ⋆ Smut, 18+ topics (MDNI), NSFW, flirty! gojo, grumpy! reader, rough, hate sex, condescending! gojo, cannon jjk world, younger gojo & geto.

Word Count ⋆ 2,492

I groan as I'm called into Yaga's office, taking a seat in front of his desk whilst I wait for him to 'bless' me with his presence. God I hate this old man, he thinks he's above everyone else. Such an ass. "Ah, (Y/N). I need a favour." Yaga says as he enters, his cold eyes narrowing down at me. "Hm?" I hummed, putting my hands on the back of my neck.

"I need you to watch over Satoru today. He's ill, and I don't need any unwanted visits." He slowly sat in his chair, his eyes dark, intently looking at me. I groaned, "Seriously old man? I have to babysit a grown man. Well, he is practically a man-child. He’s so insufferable." I spoke, my voice laced with annoyance. "Yes. Respect your elders (L/N)." He copied my annoyed tone. "Fine. Don't be surprised if he suddenly stops breathing." I stood up, "When do I have to go?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Now. Preferably until he's no longer ill." He states the obvious, I was just hoping I'd get some alone time first. I walk out the door and start taking slow but purposeful steps towards Satoru’s room. Satoru and I aren't... The best of acquaintances. Although it is mostly one sided, all he does is flirt with me and tease me. We've always been like that though, I've known him since birth.

You see, my eyes have a similar look to Satoru’s. It's quite infuriating since we're always matching, you know with the blindfold. The only difference in our eyes is that mine are green. I do really admire his looks though, he's extremely attractive don't get me wrong but... His personality pisses me off so much. He's the adult embodiment of a newborn child. He always acts immature, cracking silly jokes always at the wrong times, bragging about his abilities, his over-confidence. I hate it, but it's so attractive at the same time.

I have, basically the opposite abilities to him. I can warp reality, making physical laws meaningless, bypassing his infinity by rewriting the rules that govern his space. I also have a domain expansion that cancels out his abilities, well. I can totally control my domain expansion, as one of my abilities. I can decide what works and what doesn't, so simply putting Satoru in my domain expansion would render him useless. Although I have a few weaknesses.

…

Once I arrive at his door, I don't bother knocking and I just let myself in. I’m… familiar with his apartment, so I kick my shoes off at the door and head to his bedroom door, also letting myself in without a knock.

"Oh? (Y/N)? Missing me sweetheart?" He plasters a grin across his face as I shut the door behind me. I ignore his annoyingly attractive voice and look for a place to sit, his room is a mess. I take a seat on the edge of his desk chair and kick my shoes off. "Awww, are you here to take care of me." He pouts teasingly, I tilt my head backwards at him, folding my arms. "Yes. Orders from Yaga." I kick my legs up on his cluttered desk, turning my head back to the mirror sat ontop of the wooden surface. "Yaga." He tuts, "He's such a tease." He grins at me in the reflection of the mirror, his half naked body peaking through the covers.

I keep my eyes distracted, scanning the mess-ridden desk. I hate that I find him attractive, the thought of ever being with him genuinely drives me to jump off a bridge. "Come here gorgeous, you know I never have my Infinity on around you." He provokes me, pulling the covers over to create a space next to him. "No. You're ill. And frankly, I'd rather die." I lie through my teeth.

"Mm, that's not what you wanted last week." He teases, reminding me of last weeks events. We had a party, we got drunk and slept together. That was all. "We're adults. It was a one night stand." I retort, my mind preoccupied by the trash littered across his desk.

Satoru rolls his eyes, slipping further under the covers as he sinks deeper into his matress, "Don't wake me up." He grumpily tells me. "Wasn't planning on it." I mumble, reaching into my pocket to pull my phone out, kicking my legs off the desk and crossing them over each other.

…

He conked out for hours, snoring my ears to sleep until a rude banging filled my now awake ears. I turn my head to Satoru’s bed, he’s still snoozing. I close my eyes and let out a deep sigh before standing up from his desk chair, striding over to the door. My eyes meet his dark-brown orbs, “Oh thank god. I thought you were Yaga.” I sigh in relief, leaving the door open to let him follow me in. As I turn around suddenly, Satoru perks up. As if he’d been faking sleeping.

“There’s the patient.” Suguru chuckles a little, shutting the door behind him as he clambers over the messy floor to sit on the corner of Satoru’s bed. I look at him, “Can I go out for a bit? Is it ok to leave you to look after him… I can’t stand the sight of this room anymore.” I tap my foot on the floor as I wait for Suguru’s response. “Sure. I have somewhere to go in around an hour though, so don’t be too long.” He nods, reassuring me. “Aww, I’ll miss you.” Satoru winks at me. I scoff and shrug off his flirtatious behaviour, turning on my heels to the door instead.

…

I sluggishly lift my aching neck up, rubbing it as I look around the unfamiliar room. Oh yeah, I’m looking after Satoru. I turn my head back to his bed, he looks like he’s asleep. So I stand up and grab my airpods from my pocket, sticking one in my left ear to play my music. I look disappointedly at the floor, deciding to tidy his room up a little. I toss a few empty packets into a trash bag, rearranging some pieces of furniture and putting the clothes that were previously littered among the trash in the laundry. As I stood up, I felt a hard wall collide with my back, I knit my eyebrows together before feeling two hands slither around my waist. “Cleaning up? You’re not a butler.” He tells me as he lazily presses his chin against the top of my scalp. I press my head back, his chin falling to my forehead before he turns down at me, “Tired, love?” He coos, his breath brushing against my skin as his fingers squeeze my hips.

I sigh, lifting my head and readjusting the airpod in my ear. “Can I listen?” He tilts his head at me. I hesitate, “Fine.” I hum, as he slides his hands off my waist. He acts like we’re a goddamn couple sometimes. I fish in my pocket for my airpods, handing him the right-ear one. He smirks in approval and leaves the bedroom, dismissing himself to the bathroom temporarily. I’m assuming he brushed his teeth or something. Once he re-enters the room, he sluggishly climbs back into his bed and looks over at his desk, his eyes scanning my body. “Will you get in the bed with me now?” I think he’s asking, but it sounds more like a command. And to be honest, I’m way too sleepy to argue with him.

I sigh and look at him, kicking my legs off the desk chair. I crawl up his bed and into the sheets. "Ok. Now shut up." I said and leaned against the headboard, just like he was. I feel too vulnerable around him, I fucking hate it. He makes me feel weak. "Oh there's those pretty eyes." He grinned, ignoring my comment on his room, leaning his hand up, slipping my jaw inbetween his thumb and pointer finger.

This is the exact reason why Yaga needs to stop pairing us to do things together.

He grabs my waist, gripping it tightly as his mouth dominates mine. I have a feeling he was just lying about being sick, just as a ruse to get me in his bed. "I've been thinking about you all week." He groaned into the kiss, his hand slipping to my thigh and pulling it over him. I feel his erection on my leg, that's when my mind goes completely blurred, fuck his cock is so big, almost too big.

I give in to all of my instincts and climb on top of him, straddling his hips as he kissed me. He drops his other hand to my waist, firmly pressing me down to make sure I feel his hard-on. He smirks on my lips, bucking his hips into mine slightly. I whimper quietly, his tongue exploring every corner of my mouth.

His hand slides up to my back as he flips us over, pinning me to the bed. "Do you want me, baby girl?" He pulls away from our kiss, a string of saliva lingers between our mouths as he presses his forehead against mine. "Mm, you know I do, Satoru~" I seductively whisper his name, that seems to fuel him.

He reconnects our lips as his fingers fiddle with my shirt, yanking it off me in one swift motion. Then, his fingers press on the waistband of my pants. "I want you to beg for me, (Y/N)." He pulls his mouth off mine. "Behave yourself. Just fuck me already, Satoru." I bite my lip up at him, leaning my face to catch his bottom lip between my teeth. His lips curl into a smirk between my teeth, his hand sliding up from my waist to my neck, wrapping his long fingers around it.

Frankly, I have no idea what I'm doing or saying right now. This goes against everything I agreed to myself. And, we both still have our airpods in. Coincidentally, Monster, by Lady Gaga is playing. I smirk up at him as my eyes travel down his mostly-naked body. His white, Calvin Kleins hanging loosely on his hips as his outline becomes clearly visible.

"Mm, Satoru~ please… Please fuck me." I hum, his eyes darken as he looks down at me. He moves back and pulls my pants off, his fingers reaching for my panties. He slips his fingers in my underwear, gliding them over my core, "Mm, you're all wet for me baby." He hums, pressing his fingers inbetween my slick folds, slipping the tip of his middle finger into my hole. I whimper quietly, watching him as he pleasures me gently. He pulls his fingers out and grabs the elastic of my panties, pulling them off.

He smirks and looks down at my naked body, "Ah. Look at you, all pretty & ready for me." He teases, moving back over me. His bare chest presses on mine as he connects our lips again, I smirk and lift my legs, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him into me, his cock pressing on my pussy. "Ah~, fuck (Y/N)." He moans into my lips, his hand reaching down to his boxers. He pulls them down, grabbing his lengthy dick. He rubs his tip against my wetness, groaning into my mouth as he does. "You gonna take my cock like a good girl?" He pulls away from the kiss, looking down at me. I bite my lip and nod, spreading my legs further to give him better access.

He licks his lips, "Mm, I wanna watch your pretty little face as I fuck you." He tells me before pushing his full length into my hole. My eyes flutter, digging my nails into his back as he starts thrusting into me, at a rough pace. The sound of the headboard slamming on the wall, my moans and our skin smacking against each other fills the room, my back arching with each thrust. "Mm fuck, it's like your pussy was made for me." He grunts as he keeps his pace, roughly slamming into me.

After a few more thrusts I feel his dick throb inside of me, leaking out precum as I clench my walls on his length, my whimpers getting louder. He groans in pleasure, before he slides his hand up to my face, slipping his fingers into my mouth. "Not too loud, gorgeous." I roughly suck on his fingers they slip down my throat, his lewd groans burn in my ears as he reaches his climax. His abs tense as he comes to his orgasm, he slips his dick out of me and jerks it slowly, his seed releasing on my lower stomach in thick rope as I finish with him, his name rolling off my tongue in a whimper.

After a few more heavy breaths he stands up, pulling his boxers back up before disappearing into the bathroom. In an attempt to regain my composure, I begin to steady my breathing, closing my legs. He returns a couple seconds later, with some wet tissue, "Wanna know a secret?" He asks me as he presses the tissue on my stomach.

"Mm?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not sick.”

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[usedpidemo]

Too many nights ((G)I-dle Yuqi)

The way you see it, even if the signs were right in front of you all along—written in bright, colorful signposts with the largest text imaginable—you’d still be hurling yourself off that cliff. 

Yuqi knows this too—you think she does.

At the very least, she looks convincing enough that she feigns innocence on the matter, and she is. It's mainly a you problem. She doesn’t know you much other than being the sweet, quiet guy who was her roommate in college and nothing else.

And that’s probably the reason why she’s standing in front of your newly minted apartment on a random Monday.

—————

You’re waiting for her to pick her bags off the floor and leave. You told her to leave three times. Threaten to call security on her. She doesn’t budge. Instead, she stares. Stubborn, obstinate, unyielding.

“Please, give me one opportunity. Please let me explain myself.” Yuqi finally breaks her silence, eyes wide, glinting with tears, pleading.

“Shoot.”

She looks down, unable to see you eye to eye, her hands running through the pockets of her skirt. “You’re right. I’ve taken your kindness for granted, and I’m sorry. I really am.” 

Pausing, you’ve never heard her sound this quiet, this personal. “I never truly appreciated you till I was home with my parents. I should have focused more on studying than going out and having fun. Now look. They’re pissed that I’m being a bum at home instead of working, so they kicked me out.”

She proves your theory to be true. She has no reason to be here unless you bail her out of trouble again.

“But I can’t find one job that I like. Working a 9-5 or any regular cashier job seems so boring, you know what I mean? Doesn’t feel like my type of thing to do,” she continues, lightly kicking the suitcases with her feet. “My friends are all busy, so I had no one to lean on. Then I remembered you! So here I am.”

At least it was nice seeing Yuqi act mature for at least three minutes before reverting to her usual spry, childlike personality. 

“Okay? Well that’s on you for being lazy, and I can’t help with that. Sorry to hear you got kicked out, but I have nothing to offer you. It was great seeing you, though. Good luck with that job.” 

You try closing the door, but she stops it with her foot. Peeking through the narrow space, you find Yuqi persistent, unrelenting. “Wait. Hear me out for a second, I said I didn’t wanna be your roommate.”

“No, Yuqi. Just go—”

“I really need you right now. I’ve already applied to like five different companies on public wifi, it’s so fucking slow and I doubt they even got my email. I just need a place to stay for like a month. Trust me, I’ll get a job and when I get paid, I’ll spend it on finding my own apartment! Just give me this one time.”

You swear you’ve never heard Yuqi this desperate, this loud. Your neighbors are probably ringing up security right now, maybe the owner too.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down for a minute, will you? Our neighbors are listening.” You open the door lightly and Yuqi’s eyes light up. You didn’t even say yes, but it might as well be a confirmation to her.

“You promise? You’re actually working on a job application?” you ask, doubtful about her claim.

“Of course.” Yuqi shows her phone, presents pdf files of multiple application letters to the very places she doesn’t want to work. Some fastfood chains, at convenience stores, and mall outlets. “None of them have replied back, so—I’m still trying to apply to more places, but I’m almost out of data on my plan and I don’t wanna spend another night inside my car. Just give me this one thing? Okay?”

Seeing the evidence firsthand, you can’t help but be impressed. If you had any spine, you’d contemplate the proposal more, give it some time to mellow out, maybe let her elaborate some terms of agreement. But in a moment of weakness, you yield right away. What’s one month of Yuqi gonna do to you?

“All right, fine. I’ll let you stay—”

“I owe you one, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Yuqi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when she brings her suitcases into your apartment at record speed. She gives you a peck on the cheek in appreciation twice, one for each pair of suitcases she shuffles in.

You can only sigh in response before closing the door.

—————

Before Yuqi gets comfortable in her new place, you sit her down on the living room couch to discuss house rules. This isn’t like college, where you share a dorm together, split the bill and have personal spaces. While you don’t own the apartment, you make one thing very clear: she’s bound to you and whatever rules you impose on her.

“Let’s make one thing and one thing clear: you break any of my rules, you’re outta here. I don’t care if you explain yourself, you’re gone. Understood?”

“Right.” Yuqi’s trembling with excitement and impatience, nodding erratically, kicking her legs up, goading you into rushing through everything so she can lay on an actual bed. 

You take a moment to analyze her suitcases in the middle of the room. Facing her, you ask cautiously, “Tell me you didn’t bring your—”

“Yep!” She responds almost immediately, thrilled to answer your question, as if it were muscle memory. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

And there goes your supposed rule one. Of course she brought her entire dorm room decor along. Knowing her, they’re likely encompassing two of her suitcases.

“Yeah, no. My landlord is quite strict about decor, so you can’t put them up,” you tell her bluntly; there’s no getting around his rule, even if your roles were swapped.

She frowns, visibly devastated, probably more hurt than being kicked out by her family. It’s the end of the world, but she won’t give in. If there’s even a slight possibility she can have her way, she will force herself through. “Please? Even just my room—”

“Not a chance. It’s just a general rule here, sorry.” You make sure to shut her down immediately. “I didn’t make that rule, anyway. Blame the owner.”

Yuqi acquiesces. She groans with displeasure, crossing her arms, acting bratty. No act can convince you to change your mind.

“Right. Now actual ground rules. This isn’t a dorm so you can’t just freeload as much as you want. Now I understand you're still working on that job application, so all I’m asking is just for you not to be completely messy, got it? So don’t eat my leftovers without asking, don’t go out to clubs and ask me to drive you home when you’re drunk, none of that. If you’re drunk, sleep outside the room. I don’t want to clean up vomit on the carpets.”

Surprisingly, Yuqi agrees without complaint. You’re unsure whether she’s nodding so she can settle in, or if she actually understood every single word.

“I seriously hope you’re working on that job—”

“Don’t worry! Just give me the wifi password and I’ll be set.” Yuqi can’t help but interrupt you every single time, and to her credit, it’s effective. She does seem dead set on taking this opportunity to redeem herself, and it’s a convincing act. As insufferable as she can be at times, you want to see her succeed. You want to see her win.

You jot down the wifi password on an extremely thin sheet of paper and place it on the table before her. Before walking away, you ask her, “You need me to help with your belongings? I’ll get the guest room ready while you make yourself comfort—”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Yuqi’s typing on her phone, not even shooting you a look in your direction. “I’ll get it sorted out, don’t worry! Just pretend I’m not here.”

To her credit, she does get her belongings sorted out. By evening, she moves into a cleared out storage room that’s now her designated bedroom. Words are hardly exchanged other than simple pleasantries and greetings. You ask her if she had dinner, she says yes. She doesn’t take anything from the fridge other than some water. There’s a knock on the door; she answers and comes back with a package of chinese food. She offers to share some, but you modestly decline.

You never ate together when you shared a dorm in college. She would eat her inside her bedroom or after you already cleaned up. At times, she’d come back to the dorm late and you wouldn’t see her till the following day. You share the same space but you have vastly different lives. The feeling is familiar, but the setting is new: having dinner under the low light, uncertain about your futures. 

This feels like your first day together all over again.

—————

The first night with Yuqi is a quiet affair. There’s hardly any commotion. An unusual scene. She finishes her food ahead of you then retreats into her bedroom without uttering a single word. 

When you wake up the next morning, Yuqi is already at the dining table. Browsing her laptop, coffee in hand, seemingly focused on that next job application. She doesn’t even greet you or acknowledge your existence; she’s in her own world, but in a good way. 

“Morning,” you quietly say, trying to grab her attention, but it falls on deaf ears. 

“You off to work?” she asks, preceded by a mouse click while you pour onto your mug. Her attention remains glued to the screen, paying you no heed.

“Kind of?” You take a seat opposite Yuqi’s side on the table. “I work here. Or should I say: this is my workplace.” 

“Wow. I wish I could work from home. Would be nice,” she replies between mouse clicks and keyboard taps.

You take a light sip of your coffee. “What course did you take again?” 

“Umm—” Yuqi slumps back in her chair, “I think it was medicine? I wanted to become a guitarist and have my own band, but my parents wanted me to become a doctor. And I don’t wanna ruin my handwriting, so—” 

“Don’t you have a band with your friends? The one with—”

“Yeah that dream died two years ago.” Yuqi’s eyes squint, brows furrowing, running through every word slightly faster than normal. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Not even a little—”

“No.” She faces you with a surprisingly cold glare, a sight you’ve never seen before. “They can just fuck off—those goddamn bitches.” 

You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward after her abrupt turn. It’s probably for the best; you hardly paid any attention to Yuqi’s life to be entitled to a substantial explanation. 

The rest of the hour goes by in deafening, awkward silence. Here’s Yuqi, this ball of energy whose life primarily revolves around partying and getting rowdy, calmly clicking on the touchpad and typing a few words every now and then in search of a way to fund her addiction. You can tell from her sullen expression just how deprived she is of that high—how incomplete she feels without the rush of adrenaline, ecstasy, and alcohol flowing through her veins. It’s impressive how it takes someone to hit rock bottom to turn their life around, how all this could have been avoided with a few decisions.

Still, it’s never too late for someone like her, and as long as she holds up her end of the deal, i.e. leave you for good after this, you’ll actively root for her success.

—————

“Fucking hell, dude,” sighs Yuqi, slamming the panel of her laptop hard, her fist narrowing missing the edge of the table. While you’ve made yourself comfortable at your usual workplace, a spacious office desk on the other side of the living room, you’re preoccupied scanning through numerous documents and emails your boss sent you. A look at the bottom right of the screen tells you it’s half past lunch. Then your stomach grumbles, as if the clock wasn’t enough of a reminder.

“Gonna make lunch,” you say to a vexed Yuqi, who’s stretching her legs against the table and her arms to the ceiling, body likely aching from her hunched position. “You good?”

“Yep.” Her tone perfectly toes the line between sincerity and sarcasm. “Got three rejections—no, four, actually. The last one was sent minutes ago.”

You’re not sure how to respond.

“Oof.” 

You couldn’t relate to her even if you tried. Of the two applications you sent, your current job is the one that gave you the freedom and flexibility to work from home, even if it paid less than the other. That was six months ago; finding job opportunities has become way harder, or so you’ve heard from your other unemployed peers from college.

“Finding a job sucks,” says Yuqi, stating the obvious. She finally gets up from her chair, brings her laptop back into her bedroom to charge before reemerging with a hairpin wrapped around her knuckles, tying it around her loose red hair. “So, what’s for lunch?”

“Meatloaf and eggs,” you reply, firing up the stove as you grab pans from beneath the sink. “Not sure if you’ll like it, though.”

She lifts her eyebrows, intrigued, but mostly unbothered. She’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t fast food or from the convenience store, and she doesn’t have the gall to complain, anyway, as your roommate. 

—————

“So, how’s the job hunting going?” you ask her right as the sun descends over your apartment windows. You have your schedule down to a science, finishing all intended projects and goals when neighboring buildings’ lights open. Weekdays can’t be anymore mundane and monotonous, but you get the job done, you’re paid handsomely, and you have time for your other hobbies.

Meanwhile, Yuqi looks like she doesn’t want to stare at a computer screen for a week, maybe a month. She looks worse off than she did in the morning. It’s evident in her clothes, her hair, her face: frazzled and messy. A perfect representation of her state.

“What do you think?” she replies, never sounding so heated, so frustrated. A look at her screen shows a new rejection letter, piled between several others, already read. Each one with different reasons, different ways to hurt, but with the same intent: we appreciate your interest, but we have chosen a different candidate from a very competitive pool—we don’t think you fulfill our qualifications—we’re looking for someone with more experience—we wish you the best in your future endeavors. You’ve noticed she tends to click back and forth between each letter, as if to torture herself further.

“I think you should put that laptop away. Try again tomorrow,” you tell her, closing the panel while she’s scrolling, stealing her attention. She readjusts her glasses, blinking rapidly, annoyed at your little intervention. “I’m going for a walk. You should join me.”

“And what if I don’t?” she asks, threatening to pull her laptop away from your fingers. 

“Good luck going out when I have the room key then.”

“I don’t have my running shoes,” she replies, and she’s telling the truth; she only brought one pair of slippers with her, the rest being colorful sets of boots and expensive high heels.

“Then grab some from my closet and wash up. You’ll look stupid if you go out in those silly boots.��

—————

At first, you believe she had declined the offer; you had already left the building when Yuqi caught up to you moments later, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. Hey, maybe she could have been a great track and field athlete if she put her mind to it.

You can’t help but make a little comment. “Thought you weren’t going to go out.”

That was for all the times she’d make similar remarks to you back in college. They never really bothered you; you were never a man of high morals and upstanding, but at least you had your priorities sorted out, unlike Yuqi. 

Yuqi playfully counters your rib, shooting you a disparaging stare. “Dude. I’m doing you a favor by doing this.”

“Elaborate.” You laugh.

“You never went out whenever I asked you. You always said no to parties.”

“And for good reason. Look at us now.” 

If you wanted to, you’d be harsher. You have years of dirty laundry and grievances to air out, but this is as concise and as restrained as you can express them without getting accused of attempted murder. Besides, you can’t keep a straight face the longer you look at her. She clearly stands out in a rather dreary and dull crowd, and it isn’t the red hair as bright as the sun, it's her look—or lack thereof. Your oversized hoodie, your running shoes mixed with her pajamas, the lack of bra—it’s obvious she only did the bare minimum to look decent in a public setting, and yet she fits in all of them like a glove.

“Where are we going, anyway? Can it be a bar? I hope it’s a bar.” 

The first thing she wants to look for once outside is a place to drink. Of course. It’s hardly a surprise to you or anyone at this point.

“Where’s your car anyway?” you question back. 

“I dunno. Could be in the carpark, could have been impounded. I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. It smells like dogshit, anyway, cause I’ve been living in it for the past three weeks.” 

Yuqi talks with a fine blend of fast and sardonic, evidently scarred from all her ordeals with that car. She’s never experienced living outside her glass castle until now, and it shows. She’s dragging her feet with every step following you close behind, trying to soak in the scenery around her. Street lights, joggers, buskers, friends, and partners of every sort, people that you actually know and recognize. It’s all foreign in her eyes. All she knows are strobe lights, loud music, drinks, and rowdy crowds. 

“So, like, do you just go on a walk every single day or you only do this because I’m your roommate?” she wonders, her gaze lingering at a passing woman jogger that catches her eye. Jumping to conclusions, she adds, “Are you telling me to touch grass? As if I hadn’t been doing that for weeks?”

You turn around and notice her distant stare, still fixated on that woman, ruminating the prospect of leaving you for her instead. “I don’t think getting blacked out drunk and vomiting in your car counts as touching grass.”

“How do you even know that?” Yuqi faces you, provoked by your comment, pouting. “You hardly attend parties, even when I invited you. You always turned them down.”

“Word gets around fast. I thought you already knew that.” 

If she could, she’d grab you by the throat and strangle you to death or rip you in half. It stings. She questions whether your blunt, matter-of-fact delivery makes the statement ten times more scathing. Then she wonders if she made a mistake, dressing up and going after you, when you’ll just be making her regret her life decisions like her parents did. You hardly cared back then, so why now?

“Can we just go to a bar? You’re being annoying.” Yuqi stares into the distance, intentionally averting her gaze away from you.

“If you have the money, then sure, let’s go for it.” You know she has no leverage or power; she can only afford fast food and a month’s worth of groceries and daily necessities. It pains her to make a willing decision to pass on alcohol and avoid bars and parties. She’s down horrendously, but she won’t directly confess her own fatal flaw. 

It takes everything within her not to slap you square in the face. 

And you can play this game all night long until she folds. You can stand there, argue, and debate with Yuqi till she runs out of excuses and complaints. Four years of pent up material to unload onto her, make a scene in public and turn her into an example about not wasting one’s life away. You can go further, you promise. 

Instead, you both settle down in a cafe on the other side of the park as a compromise.

The place is more suited to Yuqi’s style: lively crowd, comfortable ambience, all the caffeine and sugar as a proxy to her raging alcohol addiction. Most importantly, she won’t pay for shit. You don’t even end up drinking your own order; she does it on your behalf. You settle for a tiny cup of tap water instead. In a way, she’s acting like a needy dog, desperate for attention without concern for anything else that doesn’t involve her.

“Fucking hell, I never knew I needed this,” she echoes, sipping up the last quarter of your coffee, glancing at the menu over the counter, itching for another. She’s keen on paying from her pocket this time; she recognizes you won’t give her another freebie. “This shit tastes so good.”

You can only shake your head, not even remotely trying to hide your frustration toward her. Her obliviousness is kind of cute in a way, making her look a bit sympathetic. 

“Maybe I should just work here,” she says, her eyes moving in every direction, her attention taken by something shiny every five seconds. Plenty of action happens at night: groups entering and exiting, the pervasive scent of fresh coffee brewing in real time, and plenty of girls to ogle at. In particular, there’s a waitress with a cherry tattoo on her neck that’s captured her interest. She can’t help but point her out to you, grinning widely at her. “See that waitress? She’s kinda cute.”

“Uh-huh.” You’re not really paying attention; you’re there mainly for the free wifi and a snack, not to flirt. Luckily for you both, the waitress is preoccupied with meeting high customer demands to notice. “Good idea, maybe you should apply here.”

The longer you stay inside the cafe premises, the more Yuqi becomes less inclined to leave. You end up having dinner, a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches from the snack menu. On her end, four cups of coffee strewn on the table, all drank by her. If this was some ploy to make you pay for free drinks, it worked to a tee. Anything to avoid engaging you in a serious conversation.

The opportunity never presents itself. Soon, the cafe becomes dimmer and muted. Staff are closing off sections, clearing trays, and cleaning up empty tables. Since you entered the cafe, she has not made a move on the waitress at all, even when you’ve tried pushing her over the cliff numerous times. Her shift is close to done, ready to check out for the day. One more opening. Still, Yuqi watches her intently, but can’t find the strength to stand, let alone pull the trigger.

“Well? I thought you were gonna ask her out or something.” You take a look around and come to a grim realization: that you’re the only two customers left.

“I—I don’t think I wanna do it now.” Yuqi turns around, playfully grinning, but rushing through her words. “Maybe when I get the job here. Maybe.”

You can only react in quiet disbelief to how this was all just a huge waste of time—and money.

“Fucking—” you sputter before masking the rest of your response, groaning as you rise from your seat, leaving.

After two days, your main observation is that Yuqi hasn’t changed much. If at all.

—————

The rest of the week follows a similar structure. It’s comforting; it’s the kind of monotony you’ve acquainted yourself in ever since having your own apartment. Yuqi’s always up before you, an hour in advance, she’ll tell you. At her usual spot around the dining table, on her laptop, coffee in hand. You stop asking for updates after the third day; you’re certain she’ll figure things out. Your mindfulness and curiosity get the better of you, peeking through the screen on occasion, only to find the same thing. One rejection after another, mixed in with a new application letter in between. From the outside looking in, it’s as if some divine force doesn’t want her to get that job.

In the evenings, you go for your usual walks. Yuqi joins you out of the apartment building, but instead of following, she separates and heads the other way. She’s wearing her own earphones and your hoodie, something she’ll end up keeping. The few times you run across each other, she's holding some drink in her hand, usually the coffee from the cafe you spent time with her in, her hoodie pooling with sweat all over. No pleasantries, you mind your own business till you return home.

It isn’t until two weeks after she’s moved in that you extend an invitation: a visit to a newly opened lounge on the other side of town. You preface the invite saying you only knew about the place because it had opened a month ago, and had mostly forgotten about it until you remembered her. She’s doing well for herself, so you might as well reward her for her efforts, even if it hasn’t gone anywhere. And it isn’t Yuqi without asking for some kind of favor; in this case, taking a ride in your car because hers has been impounded by the police. You’re not even surprised that she’s too lazy to reclaim it herself.

Your friend says the lounge is newly opened, but once inside, you’re uncertain about her claim. Whether it's by design or her being a complete liar, grimy, poorly lit, in the vein of all those underground clubs you had seen in action movies where a shootout or police raid occurs. Simply put, there isn’t anywhere pretty to look at, and you feel icky just by being here.

To Yuqi, it’s a fantasyland: it’s where she’s meant to be all along. She’s so overjoyed to be there. 

“It’s you!” calls a familiar voice; you turn and find a friendly face over the counter waving to you. You quietly leave Yuqi to herself and approach the bartender, who just so happens to be the owner. “I never thought you’d come and visit! It’s great to see you.”

“Only doing this for a friend, Minnie,” you silently tell her, pointing your finger at your invited guest, the sole reason you’d ever be here. She recognizes her immediately and understands.

“Yuqi, huh?” She looks intrigued, her gaze lingering at the girl. A subtle grin is forming on her face. “Never thought the two of you would be an item like that, considering she’s a party animal and you’re—”

“No—no—don’t get it twisted,” you interrupt, frantically trying to clear up any presumption. There’s no chance in hell you will ever find yourself attached to Yuqi romantically, not even a little. “It’s—a long story.”

“Do tell.” Minnie smirks, teasing, alluring. She looks the part of a bar owner, all right; dark eyelashes and shadowy lipstick matching her pitch black hair. Not to mention her slim dress perfectly hugging her tight frame, showing enough cleavage to draw attention. As a friendly gesture, she gives you a wine glass and pours a drink on it. “We’ve got all the time in the world and all the drinks you need. All in house since you’re a friend.”

So you oblige yourself to a tiny sip. The place is surprisingly quiet and empty, even though it’s the weekend, with lo-fi music playing through the speakers as the only form of background noise. Minnie doesn’t have much on her plate. She can lean on the desk and listen to you all night long.

“So, two weeks ago, Yuqi moved into my place trying to look for a job,” you tell Minnie before taking another sip. Both of you take quick glances at Yuqi, seemingly having the time of her life, scaring off the sole patron by the billiards table. “And I was wondering if you can get her a job here. She’s been rejected from every company she applied for. I know she doesn’t want to work a nine-to-five, and I suddenly remembered this place.”

Minnie raises a curious eyebrow, brushing small strands of hair covering her ear. “I see.” Looking past you, she notices Yuqi, now at the karaoke, amused by her voice and energy. You follow along and watch too, wincing at her talent, caught completely by surprise. You can feel the passion and emotion from her rather honeyed, deep singing voice, as well as her natural charisma while performing. 

“Damn. She sounds really good. Borderline natural at it.” Minnie’s in awe of Yuqi’s abilities, the sort of reaction that pushes buttons, steals the show. “Wasn’t she in a band? I know she played guitar.”

“She said it doesn’t exist anymore, won’t tell me what happened.” 

Even in the midst of conversation, Yuqi’s voice manages to snatch away your focus. She’s an extremely powerful singer—a natural, as Minnie said. Her voice is overpowering the background music with little difficulty. There’s little need to watch when her vocals can easily capture your attention all the same. 

Facing you again, Minnie replies, clasping her hands together, “How about she perform by herself?” she suggests. 

You meet her eye to eye at the drop of the notion, curious.

“What do you mean?” You take another sip.

“We have an open mic night next weekend, and we could use talent to liven up the place. She sounds perfect for that kind of gig. Who knows? Maybe she can be a resident singer if the cards are right.” Minnie smiles through every word, recognizing Yuqi’s talent and the untapped potential she has. All she needs is a platform to showcase her skill properly. And taking another glance at her, you see that too. She has the passion and the vocals to croon a live audience.

“I’ll tell her,” you say, turning to Minnie again. Yuqi has finished performing and is on her way over to the bar. Your conversation breaks off as the two women greet each other with an exchange of kisses on the cheek. 

“Great place you got here girl,” Yuqi tells Minnie, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll be popping by often if you don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I could use some company on the weekdays, if I’m being honest.” Minnie hands Yuqi her own wine-filled glass, as well as a complimentary bottle. She makes sure not to “Take it, it’s on the house.”

“God, this is why I love you so fucking much.” Yuqi drinks up the whole glass in one swig, and immediately pours some from the complimentary bottle. Minnie can’t help but shake her head with a little smile, knowing this is still the same Yuqi she’s acquainted with since college. A rose-tinted view of days gone by. 

The two women spend the rest of the time catching up. With how much they talk, it would be a safe assumption to think that these are two long lost friends who haven’t spoken in years. Then the conversation goes on and on, revealing more details than you should probably know: exchanged  private messages as recent as last night, Yuqi’s intentions to visit the lounge sooner before present circumstances got in the way, and how she ended up in your apartment. As a listener and side character in her story, it’s a part you quite frankly never wanted, let alone be involved in under any capacity. You make sure to add your point of view in the narrative and clear every question. Whenever you chime in, they laugh heartily. It’s a mess, and they’re unapologetically quirky, never failing to make fun of you at times.

Despite everything, the topic is never brought up: the upcoming open mic night, her performance, her natural talent. You were planning to shoehorn the idea, but one too many drinks later, the conversation and opportunity eventually slips away. Again. 

Yuqi can hardly stand on her own two feet when she finally decides it's time to leave. It’s two in the morning when you guide her back to your car, with her drunk out of her mind and slipping into unconsciousness. Minnie assists you, making it even more embarrassing. Even when she’s so inebriated that she can barely move a muscle, she says she wants another round, slipping back into her old ways.

You escort Yuqi back to your apartment, setting her down on her bed and promising yourself that you’ll tell her about Minnie’s offer when she’s sober in the morning. 

Except it’s the one fucking day in the month where your job calls you into an actual office for a meeting. Despite that, Yuqi is not at her usual spot in the living room the next morning (unsurprisingly), so you leave food on the table for when she eventually wakes up.

—————

Returning late in the afternoon, you find a note from Yuqi on the outside door of your apartment, stamped by strawberry lipstick, simply reading:

> Not gonna be around till tomorrow. Have something urgent to attend to - XOXO, song yuqi

Sure enough, one brief tour of the apartment and Yuqi is nowhere to be seen. Her room remains untouched: the same, colorful space it’s always been, with most of her clothes and belongings still strewn everywhere on the floor. You don’t even mind the stickers and posters plastered all over the walls; she was gonna break that rule regardless. Typical, but expected. At least you know she hasn’t completely left yet.

Deep down, it’s the first time in a while that your apartment feels a lot smaller—and lonelier. It’s not that you have any sentimental attachment to Yuqi—not in the slightest—but her presence clearly livens up the place. The difference without her around is night and day. Even when your interactions are limited to a minimum, the brief moments you interact make living by yourself a bit more tolerable. 

So you preoccupy your mind with your usual schedule: a walk in the park, then dinner by yourself. But these intrusive thoughts grow worse and worse. You’re not in your pajamas at the usual hour, her absence is keeping you up at night, and waiting for her to walk through that door is about as brutal as federal punishment.

You end up driving to Minnie’s bar, inquiring about Yuqi’s whereabouts. She says she hasn’t been around, and she hasn’t exchanged messages with her since last night. Then she asks about open mic night; you tell her about the inconvenience, about the note on your door, which is why you’re there. Good effort, but she ultimately gives you nothing.

“You should stay here a while, who knows? I can message Yuqi you’ve been looking for her,” says Minnie, her smile as welcoming as it’s ever been. “Why not have a drink in the meantime?”

“Hmm.” You entertain the thought, but she promised to return tomorrow, and perhaps you’re overthinking it; you just have to let it play out. “No thanks.” As a distraction you’re watching another girl at the karaoke machine. She has distinctively pink hair, has similar energy and passion for singing, except her voice is much higher, more nasally. All she does is remind you of Yuqi, but she’s nowhere close—in appearance and in ability. “She promised to be back tomorrow. Maybe I should take her word for it and go home.”

A pour of wine on the glass is followed by her siren-like whisper. With her hand caressing your shoulder, she mutters, “So—you like her. You like Song Yuqi.”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her statement. Facing Minnie, you reply, “What? No way. I don’t like Yuqi at all. I’m just concerned she might have disappeared, that’s all.”

“Cap.” Minnie smirks, murmurs to your other ear. “You like her. Actually, you love her. You just won’t admit it.”

“And what makes you say that?” 

“The fact you look so distressed wondering where she is. I mean—just look at you.” Her voice is slow, delicate, each word delivered with profound emphasis. She flickers a lighter, then directs the cigarette in her mouth for a puff. “Would someone who doesn’t like her worry like this?”

“I mean—I’m just trying to help her get back on her feet,” you tell her, and Minnie can only chuckle in response. Puff more smoke. In her eyes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your words have no weight to them. It’s the same old same old most women like her hear dozens of times. I’m not into her, says the guy who’s showing an alarming level of concern towards said girl. Something she’s all too familiar with. “You know? Just looking out for a friend, that kinda thing.”

Minnie wishes she can hold up a mirror against you now to prove her point. In a place meant for everyone to relax and ease themselves, you look tumid, on the verge of a historical crash out. She smirks into her next smoke, shaking her head, scrolling through her phone. “Sure. I believe you,” she remarks, and there’s no effort made to hide the sarcasm in any capacity.

That piece of cigar looks quite appealing right now. She sells smoking like she sells the off shoulder dress draping her defined figure: exceptionally well, like she’s meant for it.

Later in the night—you’re unsure whether it’s still today or tomorrow—Minnie suddenly approaches you with a shift in enthusiasm, as seen through her grin: “You should probably head home. Unless you want to stay the night waiting for someone who won’t be here in the morning.”

“She’s back already?” You manage to decipher the hint right away.

She nods, can’t help herself from beaming continuously. No effort to lie or maintain the mystery further. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you’d be.”

Running up the stairs in a hurry, you respond to her little jab with a shout, “And you owe me one for that. Actually—no, I owe you one!” 

Unknowingly, Yuqi’s little mannerisms are starting to reflect in you, too.

Sure enough, you’re home within a matter of minutes. Empty streets, dead nightlife on a weekday, the loudest thing heard for miles is the roar of your car’s engine and the elevator headed up to your apartment floor. Any other time you’d burst through that door like an officer with an arrest warrant, but it’s almost three in the morning, and the last thing you want to be is apprehended yourself after a noise complaint. 

The place remains as unchanged as you had left it: completely dark, save for one light over the kitchen. It’s quiet, eerily silent—until you hear airy, soft noises in the distance. Room by room, you carefully inspect where the sound is coming from, only to find nothing at all. 

There’s only one place left to check, and it happens to be the Yuqi’s bedroom. A room you remember being empty. As you approach the sole unopened door, you notice the faint sound growing in pitch. Hushed words from a familiar tone.

“Fuck—oh fuck—”

You press an ear against the door frame. She sounds clearer.  Way more explicit. Vivid.

“So—so—good—fuck yes—”

There’s a subtle creaking sound that accompanies her singsong tone almost perfectly. Nothing is left open for interpretation; Yuqi is feeling herself. Feeling a satisfaction that only comes from something slick, something rough, something good. 

As much as you want to respect her space, her moment in the dark, you can’t help yourself. She sounds so good, so gratifying to the ears, it’s making you a little hot and flustered, much to your own guilt and shame. You don’t care about the consequences; you’ll allow yourself one little look then pretend it never happened. At best, she’s too preoccupied with her own bliss to notice, and at worst, it’ll be one awkward conversation starter in the morning.

“Oh, oh God—you feel really good baby—just like that—”

It’s as if she’s reading your mind, understanding your intentions. The way she moans your name like an invitation—something you never thought you would hear or even consider—how it’s naturally delivered from her sweet, intoxicating voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice by listening through the door.

There’s no better opportunity than now.

With your heart racing against your chest, every nerve in your muscles tense up as it desperately opens the door, slowly and as quietly as humanly possible. Miraculously, you go completely unnoticed. Even as light from the living room slowly penetrates through Yuqi’s bedroom, it fails to cover what really matters: the bed and Yuqi herself. 

Nevertheless, the sight that welcomes you is one to behold, one worth looking at with complete awe.

Yuqi’s body is splayed out on the bed. Her legs are spread wide, a couple of her fingers aggressively rubbing against her exposed clit, and there’s a glossy sheen coating the sheets before her soaking wet core. Her clothes are, unsurprisingly, scattered all over the floor, along with a pair of consumed alcohol bottles. She’s completely bare for your eyes to see. Nothing is left to your imagination. More importantly, she looks so fucking hot. Your heart is racing like never before, and the scene has your pants in a twist.

Her other hand runs up and down her lithe frame, then squeezes her own breast. She lets out this sharp mewl, grinding her hips against air. Her jaw slacks wide. Her eyes shut tight. Her back arches. Waves of self-induced pleasure send shockwaves through every fiber of her being, her moans growing more and more erratic.

“Fucking give it to me—I love this cock so fucking much—”

It’s about as pornographic and explicit as it gets. It riles you up in an uncomfortable way; you end up unzipping your pants to free your growing erection, but nothing happens beyond that. It feels wrong. It is wrong, but you can’t muster up the strength to look away, let alone walk away. You want to see how it ends. How she cums.

She wraps a hand around her own throat, while her knees are planted upright with her feet firmly gripped on the sheets. There's a noticeable tone change in her whines, as if simulating the act. Yet, the words flow from her lips seamlessly. “I’m so close—so, so close—”

The cackle she makes after is mortifying. Here’s this girl, who you had zero attraction prior to tonight, shamelessly declaring how she’s going to cum, how good your cock feels inside her—without either of the two even happening to begin with. The fact she likes you is the least shocking revelation in itself. A reminder: you only had three meaningful conversations with her since she moved in—two if you consider how blackout drunk she was the night before, and even if you go all the way back to your college days, you can count them with your fingers alone.

“Fucking—cumming—oh my God—”

Yuqi strains her knees and loosens her grip on the sheets as she lets the pleasure wash over. Clear liquid gushes past her throbbing, relentless fingers and spills onto the linen. A guttural, deep moan fills the bedroom as she slumps her body flat on the mattress, her energy completely depleted, her thoughts filled with nothing but orgasmic bliss. Her coated hands rest on her bare waist, her tummy, leaving viscous sheen on her creamy pale skin.

When she isn’t screaming your name or touching herself to the thought of you, Yuqi, at her barest, looks so gorgeous like this. Flaws and all.

Albeit brief, it’s quite the show to more than satisfy your thirst for her. You remember your uninvited presence in this room and where you stand in this relationship. That she’s only a tenant—an acquaintance at best—and nothing more. Any other person and situation would already send you damning to hell. 

So you quietly leave, gather your bearings, hoping her haze doesn’t clear before she is made aware of your presence, but you hear a faint whisper right as you close the door, clearer than any whine of pleasure:

“Hey.”

Part of you wants to ignore her, pretend this is all a huge misunderstanding and feign ignorance. Then you hear her soft, alluring voice calling your name and it’s what ultimately folds you:

“W-what time is it?”

Again, you consider the choice of entertaining her question or leaving her dry. She’ll probably fall asleep shortly after and forget these few moments. You tell her it’s three in the morning, hoping she dozes off.

She doesn’t.

“Shit. Can you come inside? I mean—come in.”

She’s still thinking about you, and it’s admittedly cute. You love how unabashedly blunt—and lewd—she is when she’s drunk. You give her the benefit of the doubt and reenter the room.

Yuqi realizes the messy state she and her bedroom are in when you turn on the lights. Cheeks puffed and red from embarrassment, she tries to hop off the mattress, only to stumble to the floor on her fours. 

“I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t think you’d—” 

“Hey hey, it’s fine.” You grab her off the floor and sit her on the bed. “Don’t apologize. I’ll get some water; stay here and rest.”

Your eyes are meeting, hers twinkling. In those few, crucial moments, right when you’re about to leave, you feel an irresistible tug pulling you closer to each other.

Suddenly, Yuqi pulls you in by the shirt for a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips taste like actual whisky and vodka, indicating what she drank earlier that night. Yet they feel so lush, so sweet, filled with so much passion. You don’t bother trying; you fold to your lust, submit to her desire. You sink onto the bed together, never breaking apart, even for a second. Next thing you know, her hands are all over your body, roaming your chest, coiled around your neck, removing the shirt over your head to be tossed aside and completely forgotten.

Yet there’s still some resistance. Despite making the first move, she pulls back, and you do so in return. You’re hovering on top of her—an unexpected but welcome position to be in. 

“I didn’t know what got me there. I’m sorry. I just felt this sudden need to kiss you and—”

You shut her up by diving in and kissing her again, pinning Yuqi down to the mattress—the very thing that got you into this position to begin with. With you all over her, she’s able to shed the rest of your clothes: first the slacks, followed by your boxers. She mewls at the sensation of your hard cock pressed against her slit, and it’s beyond what her imagination can describe. It’s electrifying. And God, you know you’re no better than her, but you just want to fuck her right then and there, give her everything she wants without a second thought. 

Grabbing you by the scalp, she rips your lips off her chin as you’re making your way down her neck. “Not yet. Nuh uh.” She pulls you into yet another kiss, as if you’re oxygen—and in a way, it’s appropriate: you’re breathing new life into her. “Did I ever tell you that you were a good kisser?”

“Not at all,” you tell her, gently shaking your head. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

“Half bad?” Yuqi raises a sharp eyebrow, seemingly offended by your backhanded compliment. A dangerous smirk forms on her lips. “Says the one who was watching me the entire time—”

“You knew?” There’s a heightened sense of panic in your voice. “I thought  you were—”

“Shhh.” She kisses you, pulls you into a warm cuddle atop her. Slender legs wrapped around your hips, she follows: “Less talk, more lovemaking.”

And more lovemaking you do. You grow more easily acquainted with her lips than with her personality, and you barely know them: it’s only been a few minutes. Even though it’s a Thursday, the weekend feels like a lifetime away. You should be up five hours from now; you have the alarm preset and everything. But Yuqi’s getting in your way again, as she always has, and this won’t certainly be the last. She’s so hypnotic, so alluring, you find yourself unable to slip away, no matter how hard you try.

You find that it’s easier to give in than to struggle aimlessly. 

It’s effortless to get your fingers pressed inside her sopping core, brushing along sensitive, wet ridges of skin, where thoughts of you manifested into thin, delicate strokes. Her moans ring against your ears in varying pitches, each with a distinct, pulsing plea of satisfaction. Keep going, she tells you, and you follow without complaint. All this while you leave a soft path of bite marks down her neck and collarbones, until you reach her petite chest.

And fuck, you just go down on Yuqi. Sucking on her breasts like you’re in the middle of an oasis in the desert. She goes wild. Tossing, turning, trembling. You can feel her body close on you, wanting to take you in and suffocate you. The bed is creaking, growing strikingly more intense, turbulent. All this spurring you on, making you more reckless, more daring with her. 

“Mmmmm—fuck!” She lets out a hum of desperation, her hot, shaky breath fogging on your skin. You become an intertwined labyrinth of limbs that fit together, where you have no idea where it begins and where it ends. Your fingers vanish between her legs, still working tirelessly, perfectly snug around her pussy even when crushed between the weight of her thighs.

Eventually, you find yourself staring aimlessly at Yuqi. She’s so beautiful, and you’re punching yourself mentally, wondering why it took so long to come to this conclusion. Even when she’s not rocking the trendy hair color of the week and her face is a canvas for every conceivable makeup and filter, she’s naturally pretty. Especially now, completely bare—and with nothing but an exasperated, satisfied look of inebriated, lust filled bliss.

You find the light peeking from the living room, casting a shadow between your tangled legs. She’s dripping at her core, showering your fingers with a fresh flow of sheen, messing up the sheets even further if that’s even possible. They’re beyond saving at this point, and so are you. 

Rolling to her side, Yuqi wraps her arm around you, as if enticing you to stay. You shouldn’t have done this, but it’s too late: there’s no going back. You’re too lazy to close the door, and you have the girl you previously never gave a second look rubbing lazy circles on your stomach with her coated nails. Her hair draped all over your arm and shoulder, her eyes looking up at yours, acting all soft and innocent—

Until she starts talking again. “It wouldn’t be complete unless you cum inside me, wouldn’t it?”

The difference between her body language and her lips is night and day. Right then and there, you immediately recognize that there’s no other way this night will end. How your body moves at her will, how you immediately roll on top of her, as if it’s programmed to follow her every command. You have her legs pressed up and spread wide, her knees bent, lining your aching cock against the wet slit of her cunt. All while her features twist into a sickening, slimy grin in the slim shape of a lip bite. The fire, the desire—it’s still as bright as ever. 

And to make sure you aren’t second guessing the idea, her arms are coiled around your neck, her hands grabbing at your hair, pressing on your nape. Yuqi wants you—needs you—to fuck her silly; it’s the only way she can be satiated.

You watch Yuqi’s expression contort from anxious to messy, and the feeling is mutual. You slip in, slow and delicate, going against her instruction, and you almost lose it at the first stroke. The deep, guttural moan you make echoes throughout the entire apartment, while her firm walls pulse against your cock. It’s hot, it’s tense, it’s suffocating. 

“Shit, shit, shit—” you mutter, gently trying to pull back, but the fiery sensation burns, scratches away at your psyche, at your loins. “So—fucking—tight—Yuqi—fuck.”

“C’mon. Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She kisses your ear, her legs pounding against your hips, demanding you to move. There’s some serious intent behind her tone, a seamless blend of demand and impatience. “Use that big cock—mmm!”

You can only groan in response as you thrust back in deep, her grip on your body tighter than ever. And it’s more than just her cunt; she’s clinging onto you for dear life.

It hardly matters when you’re leaving sore, red marks on her skin or ripping through the blankets. It hardly matters when Yuqi can barely breathe. It hardly matters when you’re so loud that everyone can hear you. What’s important is you’re fucking her—and you’re fucking her hard. You both love the filthiness to it. There’s no rhythm, no pace, no flow; it’s one slow deep thrust, followed by a fast pump into her tight, inviting cunt. You become comfortable; you take her like she’s meant to be used.

And Yuqi takes your cock so fucking well. Bounces against every stroke with ease, as if the feeling is second nature to her. Knowing her, she’s probably been in this position more than you’d want to know or hear. You don’t really care about that for now. Even after what seems to be an endless cascade of orgasms, she’s still keening, still needy, still soaking wet that it’s alarming. Her back arches, melts deep into the cushion. She still wants more.

“So—fucking—good—more—need—fuck—”

The only noise you need is the mesh of your flesh slapping against hers, bouncing against her sharp cries of pain and pleasure. Reaching into the deepest, most sensitive parts of her pussy with your cock, this violent shudder rocks both you and Yuqi to your core. With each drag, more of her slick coats your shaft, and the easier you get access to her smothering heat. You can’t find the will to stop, not that you ever want to; she feels so warm, so inviting, so sloppy sounding to the ears that it’s driving you just as crazy as her.

It’s also driving you wild why it took you this long to fuck her—use her—like this. If you had known, you would have cared sooner. You’d have some leverage when it came to negotiations. A body like hers is too good not to have on speed dial.

Right now, it’s the least of your concerns. Not when you’re pounding a tight body like Yuqi’s so freely, hearing her demand to fuck her harder, like your life’s depending on it. Better late than never.

And it’s for the best that the moment happens later rather than sooner. She cums. Cums again. Eventually you’ve stopped counting, because there’s no point. The mere thought of you restarts the cycle, and your touch accelerates the process. The clutch of her cunt is too overwhelming to avoid at this point; it’s all but directly telling you to fill her, to unload all that pent up tension and need into her. The thought never bubbled up in your head even once; the idea of you and Yuqi with a child together. You never really questioned it. She goes out often, probably gets fucked multiple times in one night if she’s with willing company. She probably knew you’d walk in on her; hell, she’s probably got this whole thing planned out and Minnie is one of her accomplices. Maybe the entire time, she’s been yearning for you, because you’ve never heard her this passionate, this loud, this filthy in your life, even at her most inebriated.

“Inside me. Please cum inside me. I’m safe, don’t worry,” she whispers, as if she’s reading through your mind, reassuring you from your doubts. Her hand is palming your back, as if to line you straight so your cock directly hits her sweet spot. She sounds so pretty, it’s almost impossible to resist.

“Gonna cum,” you tell her, voice going hoarse, rasp, and she nods immediately in return, reinforcing the notion. She’s focused her effort on holding on, her legs tightly wrapped around your waist, her arms coiled around your neck, subtly pushing you against her hips. 

“This—pussy��so—fucking—God,” you mindlessly utter, averting her doe eyed gaze, desperate to cling to the last of your resolve as it quickly dissolves with each thrust. You’re on borrowed time and it’s quickly slipping away. Yuqi is tilting your face down to her, to her airy breaths, to her fluttering eyelids, to her passionate expression as you fuck her, pushing you over the edge. “Holy fuck, Yuqi—”

Yuqi’s lips part like a flower in bloom, and it’s a pretty sight. Yet it’s not enough of a distraction to keep everything from falling into place.

And God, it fucking burns. 

You swallow hard, but are unable to keep that groan suppressed. Your hips meet her halfway, your cock comfortably buried deep in her heat, and that’s where you come undone. Yuqi digs deep into your skin as it fills her—your cum—and she goes frozen at that moment. It’s a quiet, tense flash of silence. Afterward, she finally breaks. Cries out this deafening whine, her grip all over you loosening, time eventually catching up to her. 

She lays beneath you, completely limp, but her body remains trembling, shaking, seizing. You don’t find the strength to drag your cock from her heat; the feeling lingers. Endless ropes of cum gushing into her womb, emptying yourself, just as she wanted. Then you pull out, agonizingly slow, and more viscous slick gushes from her core. 

You feel guilty for that poor patch of soaked linen between her legs. It’s about as ruined as a collapsed power plant.

There’s little need for Yuqi to beg you to stay. The climax saps whatever energy you had left. You end up slumping flat on your belly beside her, both of you bathed in the afterglow of sex, exhausted from an already long day, too worn out to make another sound. And when you’re tired, any bed, no matter how messy it may be, is a comfortable bed.

—————

You already expected the scene at the breakfast table to be awkward.

And it was.

It isn’t until Yuqi calls you out standing at the doorway of her room that you realize you’ve been shooting a thousand yard stare the whole time. She waves at you, her cheeks red, flustered, chuckling. “Good morning to you, I guess. Put something on. I don’t wanna drink coffee while looking at someone’s dick. It’s gross.”

This time you’re the one unbecoming, completely in the nude while she got herself into some pajamas. Despite that, you hardly feel any guilt or shame, like this is a normal occurrence in the household. So you scramble to your room and get appropriately dressed. A look at the time and it’s already 15 past ten in the morning, an hour later than when you normally start work. Even more unusual is the absence of the laptop. It’s just Yuqi and her coffee.

Sitting opposite Yuqi, today seems a bit more tense than normal, and you can guess the reason why. She knows it, too. Neither of you are willing to break the ice, only shooting occasional glares at each other while sipping on coffee and scrolling through your phones.

“So, Yuqi.”

The words slip from your mouth, accidental, nearly silent. They follow the mild screech of the chair she sits on. When you meet eye to eye, she asks what’s up. What's on your mind? There’s a sudden barrier in your throat. You have a vague idea of what to say, but not the power to speak them. 

“About last night—”

Her lack of response is unnerving. The visible curiosity, the probable apathy. You and her possibly sharing the same sentiment: a feeling of regret. 

“I—I just wanted to say sorry. For last night. I should have just—”

“Sorry for what?”

You suddenly stop. This is not the expected reaction; it’s the complete opposite. A moment where you face the consequences of your actions.

Yuqi stands up and walks over to your side, beaming from ear to ear. “What we did last night was—fucking amazing. Don’t feel bad. If anything, I should feel bad because I didn’t tip you off sooner. We could have done so much more.”

You don’t pick up on the implication right away. It’s all strange, uncharted territory. Your previous flings were simple one-and-dones: a night of reckless, frivolous fun. Short, but fun nonetheless. They would disappear in the morning, never to be seen again.

“I didn’t think you’d walk through that door, especially since it was three in the morning,” says Yuqi, casual, running her fingers through your hair. “I got a bit too silly, as usual, but there’s a good reason for it.”

“And that is?”

“I got a job!” Yuqi’s gripping to your shoulder, the only thing keeping her from jumping for joy. “I got a job at the cafe with the pretty lady. I start on Monday.”

It’s certainly a cause for celebration. You can’t help but root and smile for her, caressing her hands. “Well, damn. Congratulations.”

“Yeah!” Yuqi’s wrapped you in a rather heartwarming embrace that you willingly fold into. “I had the interview yesterday, so I needed to lock in. Needed to be alone. Then I got accepted after, so I went and bought some drinks to celebrate.”

That doesn’t surprise you one bit. You’re just thrilled that she’s finally getting somewhere.

“So—does that mean I can kick you out once you get your first paycheck?” you ask her.

“I guess so. But—” Yuqi pauses, tilts your chin on an incline. She’s warm, radiant, pretty. She doesn’t care that you’ve worded yourself poorly and you’re taking it back; she’s still riding off the high from yesterday. You’re already counting the days before she leaves, and admittedly, you’ll miss that sight. “I’m gonna miss staying with you. Thanks for having my back when I needed it. I honestly don’t know how I will ever repay you.”

She tops it up with a quick peck on your lips. It’s all over your face, etched completely in red. The devilish grin. 

“I think I know exactly how.”

And that’s all that needed to be said.

Before you know it, you’re right back at square one: clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, her body pressed on the mattress, flat on her belly, your cock stretching her pussy out as you fuck her mindlessly from behind. This time in the comfort of your own bedroom.

All the more reason for you two to stay together.

—————

(A/N: fucksorryforgoingonanotherhiatusfuckfuckfuck—)

(Okay, but I really do wanna apologize for going on yet another unannounced hiatus. Final weeks of the semester were hell, then I was on vacation the week I promised this fic would be released (I'm basically the LeBron James of K-smut when it comes to lying at this point), not to mention a health scare courtesy of my mother. Some very hard times have hit me lately, so my mind wasn't 100%. Nevertheless, I am still standing (shoutout Elton John). Lots of free time throughout June and July, so hopefully nothing bad happens ISTG lemme have some peace for once and let me fucking write goddammit—)

(In non-personal news, Yuqi's solo was very fun and she's getting on that Yena level of bias where she's the perfect blend of cute and hot. Then she went pink recently and that made me :pphurt: Sort of a feel out fic before I *finally* finish these commissions over the coming weeks, thank you for reading!)

[pigeonpeach]

Father’s weakness

Aka another mom figure x arlecchino!

Warnings: blood, injury to reader, stitches,

A/n: part of this was written before her story quest, but i wanted to get something out after weeks of nothing. Tryna feed my arlecchino fans out there

You hadn’t ever fought in your life. You were not a fighter by any means. But when one of the city mechas malfunctioned and started to target the very child you were with, something in you snapped. Before you could think you were struggling against a metallic arm, blood dripping from your hands as you had stopped the blad with your palm. In that instance all pain was numb, your body didn’t exist but your determination to protect the very helpless and small child did, it overrides your weakness as you had successfully stopped it. The child in question immediately screaming for help.

“I don’t want to leave you! No I won’t leave you again mommy!” She cried, her mother had been murdered, that’s why she was a orphan, you could only imagine how horrific it was for her.

“Celia you have to run! I’ll be fine!” You said, lying through your damn teeth. The machine tried to overpower you, your body was pushed back as you tried to wrestle the sword from its hand.

Finally the guards, the human ones arrived. A gunshot aired as the mecha turned its attention to far more dangerous agressors and withdrew its sword to fight them instead. Leaving you to fall to the floor, injured and awkwardly comforting Celia as she immediately tried to drag you back to the house of hearth.

“I can’t really say you’re a fool. There wasn’t exactly any better alternative in that situation.” Your coworker said. You winced as she stitched the gash in your hands. There wasn’t much time to get a pain killer so you bore it through your teeth. “But Alrecchino will certainly be unhappy with the guardes. I truly don’t understand why it picked on you.”

“Just.. keep scolding me or something. Its easier to forget the pain.” You whispered. The children were hysterical outside. You, the favorite caretaker, had been greatly injured. Of course they were upset, these are orphans. You could hear the older agents trying to soothe the younglings outside.

“Arlecchino won’t be pleased. Lets just hope her anger will be directed towards the engineers.”

“Likely. I didn’t do anything against the code, infact Its well within my job description to protect the children if needed. I may have lied about my capabilities on that though…” you hissed. Now without the adrenaline did everything fucking hurt. The antiseptic in your wounds, the bruises, the needle actively piercing your skin, it fucking hurt. But you had to suck it up, otherwise the children would meltdown into utter chaos believing their mother was dying.

“Surely you know that she.. values you in some way. I was just saying that she may be particularly pissed. You are her favorite.”

“Wait what? I’m the kids favorite, that’s no secret, but hers? Are you sure?” You asked skeptically. Although Clarice had been quite old, having worked for the previous knave and well into her 50s, you didn’t think she had a eye for those details.

“It doesn’t take a expert. But you should be more careful.”

“And what? Let the machines murder the kids I’m designated to protect? No! I did nothing wrong! I don’t care if I destroyed or damaged that machine. I’d sooner punch the Iudex myself then let any of those kids get harmed on my watch.” You said defensively.

“Yes I understand. There. You’re done. Now I’ll wrap it so the kids don’t worry to much. Now please go out there so the kids don’t start mauling each other.” Clarice groaned. You took your hand, it wasn’t pretty, you certainly couldn’t let the kids see that kind of wound when they’re so young.

“Mom! Mom!” The children only became more rowdy when you left through the door.

“Back up now! You’re all going to crush each other!” You said sternly. Only about half seemed to listen, you had to repeat yourself a few times before they relaxed. “I’m okay children. I’m just a little hurt, I’ll live okay?” You flipped your hands around to showcase the bandages, hoping they’d relax. They did but you could still see the worry. Even the older children seemed concerned. “Please return to what you were doing now, all is well. No one is dying or leaving okay?” You said. Slowly they dispersed. If only because their worries had been addressed. But you knew it didn’t fully do so. But at least now you could walk down the halls. You sighed as you walked towards the entrance, seeing a few guards.

“You won’t take our mommy!” One kid said immediately latching onto your leg. You patted his head.

“This isn’t a arrest. In fact we just wanted to get a report from you as to what happened. We understand you left the scene almost Immediately yes?” The officer in question seemed suspicious of you. As if you had something to benefit from the situation. ‘Great he’s going to find anything to twist into suspicion’

“Sir I hope you understand that now is not the the time for interviews. I have just been patched up and I am still on the clock, I have a big responsibility right now. I’ll be happy to come to your olace for a official statement but now is not the time. Now please leave before the children get worried even more so.”

“Ma’am we have to get your point of view to better understand-“

“I was taking one of the children for icecream because she had been very good and it was her birthday. That mecha started randomly attacking people and I jumped in to save her. That is all you are getting at this hour, now please step outside.” You said, you didn’t trust this officer. Just his eyes alone were shifty, plotting, something wasn’t right with him and you weren’t going to risk it,

“Ma-am do not put your hands on me.”

“I am very much not touching you right now. Am i not allowed to exist in the air nearby you? Let me repeat myself, i will go to the palais to give my statement once I’m clocked out. You however need to get out.” Normally you were polite and understanding, the epitome of grace and manners. But you almost died today so you didn’t feel intimidated by the cops ad you had previously been.

“May I at least speak to the child?”

“I will not repeat myself sir, get. Out. We will give our statement later.” You said pointing to the door. He wrote something down which annoyed you greatly.

“Alright, you don’t have to be so rude. I’ll leave. We expect your testimony soon.” He said. You frowned even more so.

“What a bitch.” A child said.

“Do not use that language Belle.” You sighed.

“Arlecchino was supposed to be back by now, but I believe she’s having a strong word with the guards right now.” Lynette explained. From the way her tail swished you could sense she was alarmed. “Many people are afraid of the mechas right now. Apparently they’ve been temporarily recalled. Although the current belief is that one of the wild ones managed to sneak in without suspicion. But its only a theory for now. The important thing is you are safe.” Despite her stoic face you could see both her and Lyney needed reassurance of your wellbeing. Like the many children who were now on edge.

“I am safe. A doctor came by to inspect my injuries and said that I should be fine. I’m likely s little anemic is all. For now I can’t do any heavy lifting or intensive jobs.” You explained. Lyney stiffened.

“That shouldn’t be a issue, Freminet and I would be more than willing to help you with anything.” He offered. You smiled trying to reassure the twins of your health.

“That is sweet but you two have your own lives now. But if you have the time to I wouldn’t complain. Just don’t go against your father’s orders just for me okay. I don’t want anyone getting into trouble.”

“That’s reasonable enough. Will you still be working?” Lynette asked.

“Well like you said, Arlecchino isn’t home yet so I’d have to discuss that with her. But likely yes. I have already used up my sick days for the month.” You smiled.

“No I’m sure she’d let you rest at least!” Lyney said.

“I’m glad you care Lyney but it’s up to your Father to decide. Besides I’m still kicking. I’ll be fine.”

“Father did tell us to accompany you for now. How is Celine right now?”

“She had a panic attack and had to be kicked out of the nursing station. But she’s uninjured and I’ve spent time to calm her down. Unfortunately she didn’t get to finish her icecream.” You joked. They didn’t seem to enjoy your humor.

“We can get her some ourselves. You just relax for now.” He said. You sighed.

“Miss Alrecchino.” You bowed as she entered the room. She however seemed anything but normal. She held your face forcing you to look at her and tilting it, as if checking for any injuries.

“How are you feeling.” Her tone was different. She sounded riled and angry. You dreaded seeing this side of her.

“I’m just a little weak right now. My palms hurt quite badly but I’ll be fine.” You said. She seemed unpleased.

“She didn’t even use painkillers..” she said under her breath. “You should rest. Bandage the wound and check in with the doctor, ill ask the others to lighten your workload for the time being. Be cautious from now on.”

“Y-yes.” You bowed as you quickly exited, unsure if you had heard the entire conversation properly.

And that was it. Arlecchino despite her cold and unfeeling demeanor, everyone else seemed convinced she had a fondness for you. But even if she did you could never see it in her eyes. Her eyes looked somehow dull and sharp, dangerous maybe a better term. Sometimes they soften, the light would reflect in them but her lips hardly ever curved then. It was like she never smiled with her eyes but never smiled when her eyes lit up. But you had a job to do, you had to help the kids, you could ponder arlecchino’s emotions later.

[carlsangel]

LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU (PART ONE)

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl have an argument and he makes it up to you.)

tags: SMUT!!! p in v, RIDINGGGGG BABYYYY, unprotected sex (be safe!)

masterlist here!

read part two!

i wrote this so i could get motivated to write again, it’s the first fic i’ve written that wasn’t requested in a long ass time, so this one’s just an idea from me and a fic for myself i hope u like!!!

Carl was always telling you that you needed to be safe outside the walls. He always told you if you were to go on a run, the only people you should go with was Daryl or Glenn. So, when he told you he couldn’t go on a woods date because he’d be going out for supplies with the two of them, you wanted to go with. But he still refused.

“I don’t understand, I thought you said it was fine if Glenn and Daryl took me, you said they’re the most reliable. We were supposed to go to the woods anyway…” You reason, following him through the house as he gathered his belongings. “We can go on the date tomorrow, anyway this time’s different. We’re going to the store on Miller street, the last time the guys went, it was filled with walkers.” He makes his way out of your guys’ room and down the hall. “Well why’re you going then? I don’t want you to.”

He stops just before the stairs and he sighs, turning around to look at you intently. “It’s just how it is, okay? I don’t want to have to worry about you out there, and you definitely don’t have to worry about me.” He explains. You’re sort of annoyed at the fact he thinks he has to take care of you. He continues down the steps and you follow after. “You don’t have to worry about me, I don’t understand. You’re being quite the hypocrite.” You refute. He shakes his head and grabs his bag before heading towards the door.

“Seriously Carl, what the fuck?” He places his hand on the handle and turns to you. “I’ll see you at eight.” He opens the door and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

You stayed home the whole day, quite pissed to say the least. You babysat Judith, which didn’t bother you at all but you’d rather have gone with him. You felt worried, not to mention left out. By the time they came home, you were sitting on the floor in the living room with Judith, playing with her toys. “Here, bug, this one has jingles.” You shake the toy in front of her and she yawns, grabbing it but dropping it. You hear the front door open and you see Carl and Daryl walking through the door. AKA your signal to get Judith up to bed.

You stand up and pull Judith up as well, letting her stand on your feet as you take slow steps towards the stairs. They both acknowledge you and Carl’s the first to say something. “Hey, how was babysitting?” He asks, noticing how focused you are on keeping Judith on your feet. “It was fun. We gotta go to bed, don’t we Judith?” You reply dismissively, Daryl and Carl share a knowing look while you head up the stairs.

You get Judith changed and in her crib, you exit and closer her door quietly before turning to be met with Carl just standing there. “Oh sh-” You put your hand over your heart and he sort of giggles at you. “Jesus christ make a noise or something.” You roll your eyes and walk down the hall and he follows after. “I’m alive, see? The run was a breeze.”

He tries his best to make you realize you were wrong about not wanting him to go out. “Yeah no shit, I see that but that doesn’t make the whole situation any less frustrating.” You retort. He closes the door behind you guys and you sit on the bed, kicking your boots off your feet and he does the same. “I was left here alone, not to mention you ditched our date.” You stand up to start changing and he watches you from the bed. “I know, and I’m sorry I just- It seemed like the best way for me to get practice with knives. I’m still not the best since…my eye.” He replies quietly. You turn from the dresser to look at him.

Well you just feel bad now. “Shit I just feel sort of selfish…I’m sorry.” You sort of sympathize with him and walk over to run your hand through his hair. “Don’t worry. I get it, probably more than anyone.” He holds the sides of your thighs, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over them as he looks up at you. “But, if you wanna make it up to me, and if you’d let me make it up to you…I can think of somethin we could do.”

Within the next couple minutes you’re both stripped of your clothes, Carl is sitting back against the pillows while you’re on his lap. He has your tit in his mouth, his eyes shut, just enjoying the feeling of your nipple against his tongue. He moans against your skin and your hand goes up to tug on his hair a bit. He pulls away from your chest to look up at you breathlessly. “Please I need to feel you.”

You smile and adjust your position on his lap, slowly sinking onto his dick. The both of you moan at the feeling, he leans his head against your chest as he feels your heat surround him. His hands go to your hips, yours go to his shoulders to steady yourself. He guides your hips back and forth, only making the pace quicker. “Oh fuck you drive me insane.” He mumbles into your chest, his eyes half lidded and his grip on your hips getting tighter.

You can feel him start to buck his hips upwards, pushing his dick farther into you. You lean on him a bit, resting your weight on your knees as you straddle him, allowing him to thrust up even more. He rests his hands on your waist and looks up at you, watching as your eyes roll back into your head at the pleasure. He slows a bit and you pull away to lean back on your hands, his cock still penetrating you while you steady yourself. This put your body on display, he could see everything.

You start to move yourself back and forth, practically fucking yourself on him. Carl’s eyes go wide at the way you grind on him, he could cum from the sight alone. And he almost did. “Fuck- m’gonna-” He said shakily. You’re breathing heavy, the feeling leaves you unable to speak and Carl leans forward to rub your clit with his thumb. That basically sends you over the edge and you cum, moaning quite loudly. The feeling of you clenching around him added on top of your moans causes Carl’s orgasm to follow shortly after.

A couple of minutes went by and you were cuddled together in bed, he’d cleaned you up and pulled your clothes back on for you. You loved aftercare with him, he was always the sweetest. The two of you soon fell asleep in the comfort of each other’s arms.

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

The next morning, you had perimeter watch so Carl woke up early to make you breakfast. Or try at least, he made you eggs and selected some fruit for you to eat before leaving. He sat and talked with you, making you laugh before leaving for work. You did a ton of different jobs at Alexandria, perimeter watch was your least favorite. You’d even faked having a bad headache one time to get out of it.

So, you stood there watching carefully when you hear a voice from the bottom of the post. It was Glenn. You peak your head over. “Can I come up?” He asks. “Yeah go for it.” You step back and continue to watch around the gates while you waited for him to climb up. Once he did, he looked at you and sort of laughed awkwardly. He was being weird but he’s always sort of like that so you didn’t pay any mind to it. “Did you need something?” Your focus is still on the scenery in front of you as you speak.

“Uhh…yeah there was sort of something I need to tell you about the run yesterday.” He was nervous and it was evident with his tone. You turn to him, your eyebrows furrowing a tad. “Okay..explain.” He nods and swallows hard. “Just- don’t get angry okay? I mean I’m not really meant to be saying anything but I feel horrible to keep it from you and-”

“Oh my god please just spit it out.” You cut him off. “Right. Yesterday Carl had a close call with a walker, it basically tackled him and was really close to just-” He stops for a moment but continues. “It almost bit his face off. Daryl saved him last second when I’d got close enough to hear their conversation…I guess they didn’t see me, they made an agreement to keep it from you. Not to tell you about it.” He explained, somewhat ashamed.

You stop to think. You felt shitty about it all, for sure. He’d gotten pissy at you about wanting to go, made you feel bad for not wanting him to go, and used the excuse of his eye. He told you it all went well. He lied to your face, then fucked you after.

a/n: part two is coming soon :)

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[brokenmutations]

Angry Little Wolverines

Logan Howlett • She/Her Pronouns • Mutant!Reader [Speak to Animals/Mind Reader for Animals] • Have you even seen a Wolverine before? • SFW • TW: Minor injuries

“Okay, you’re called the Wolverine. Have you ever seen one before?” Y/N scoffs when questioning Logan as he was left speechless given it was indeed true. He’s never seen one before. “Jeez, Logan! You can’t take their whole style and not know what they look like”

“I didn’t name myself! How the fuck am I supposed to instantly know what they look like?”

“You lose your memory. Find out you’re named Wolverine…you weren’t curious?”

All the man did was shrug to such, making his partner scoff at him again before heading toward the garages promoting him to quickly follow in confusion.

“Where are we going?”

“To the worse place in the world” Y/N snatches the keys to his truck off the hook. “The zoo”

“How is that—-“ Logan stopped himself when she whipped her head quickly back at him in anger. “Right. Animal captivity. But why go if you hate it there so much?”

“Because I’m not driving all the way to western Canada to find wolverines in their natural habitats. Plus…”

“We ain’t doing a prison break. The cops are still pissed last time”

“UGH fine” Y/N sighs, opening the drivers side and letting herself in while Logan got in on his side.

The drive was pretty quick given Y/N went on and on about wolverine facts.

Did you know that the scientific name for wolverines is Gulo gulo and it comes from the Latin word glutton?

They average around a weight of 30-50 pounds and can take on grizzlies!

Wolverines chirp and coo at their young maybe that’s why you have a softer tone with Marie compared to everyone else

Not a part of the wolves family! Weasels actually

And she went on and on, Logan found himself irked in the beginning but eventually ease into the comforting rambling that came from Y/N about the creature.

Once they arrived at the zoo, Y/N couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed when they arrived given she could hear everything the animals were talking about. More specifically what they were complaining about. Logan expected to go straight to the wolverines but stuck by Y/N as she went to every animal talking to them to make them feel a bit better.

That stupid child wouldn’t stop tapping the viewing glass! The lioness roared at Y/N from the exposed area of the enclosure as she instantly turned to glare at said kid only for Logan to block her gaze.

“Are you going to fight a kid?”

“I will if I must!”

“Fight the parents instead, sweetheart. But also let’s not get kicked out of the zoo before we see this animal that shares my name”

Your boyfriend is the Wolverine? Another lioness came up to her friend on the perch, chirping at Y/N as she nods. Resulting in a huff from the lioness. Do you know what the exhibit has?

That brought a bit of anxiety to Y/N as her tensed posture made Logan instantly wrap an arm around her shoulders to ease some of it.

Even if the worry was toward nothing once it revealed the few signs at the wolverines enclosure that “There’s a hero named after us” and has images of Logan that he didn’t even know was taken of him.

“Least the rest of the world knows what wolverines are, Wolverine”

Logan scoffs as he watches Y/N approach the railing, she leans over to find a few wolverines huddled around something.

Need to escape

Need to escape

Baby doesn’t deserve this

Baby needs to escape

Let’s just say, Logan shouldn’t have turned away when he heard some bird cawing in a different part of the zoo.

“Well now I know what they look like and I should change my name”

“No! You’re a hero to them too yknow” Y/N gave him a soft smile as she sits in the passengers seat this time around, holding her chest for a moment that concerned Logan until it started to move. “What?”

“…You gotta stop reading their minds”

“What are you even talking about?!”

Logan squints at her leaning back in his seat crossing his arms. “They have a baby, a baby doesn’t deserve to live in captivity!” He repeats her words back at her, same words she uttered when they left the enclosure and INSTANTLY left the zoo. “Charles isn’t going to let you keep it”

“Well he can argue with me til he’s blue in the face!” Y/N opened the first few buttons of the flannel she wore to reveal the wolverine cub. “You can’t blame me!”

“This is kidnapping!”

“Not when the parents consented and helped me get the baby!”

“HOW DID YOU EVEN GET THE CUB OUT?!”

Angy The small cub started to growl at Logan, only for the man to growl back resulting in the baby hiding in her shirt.

“DONT BE MEAN TO OUR BABY!”

Logan face palms to such, but to her surprise, he started the car and started the drive back to the mansion.

Someone else can argue with her about whether to keep it or not…and to make sure zoo security doesn’t ban her.

[bellobambino]

"Mangia."

A Luigi Mangione Fluff Piece

The pov for this piece is from an unnamed girl, something more than friends.

Summary: Didja eat? lol. Luigi is italian, so he's a feeder. Late night Jersey diner run with LuLu.

586w

-----

Luigi and I always end up in this exact booth when it’s late, we’ve run out of shit to do, but we don’t want the night to end. Lakeside Diner is the bee’s knees in North Jersey. Luigi’s dad is friends with the owner, and they go way back.

Luigi is sitting across from me, arms folded, with a look on his face that tells me his gears are turning. I know what’s coming.

“Have you consumed anything other than coffee in the past 24 hours?” He nods at my mug, his eyes dark and accusing.

“Yeah,” I say, slowly tearing apart the paper sleeve to my straw. “I had some fruit earlier.” I lie.

He gives me a tired, incredulous look. He knows me. He can always tell when I’m lying, and that’s always pissed me off. I can’t get anything past him. But he’s also the only person who seems to get me—really see me.

“What?” I ask dryly.

“Fruit,” he responds as if it personally offends him. “I’ve been with you all day. How did you slip fruit by me without me noticing?”

I half-ass a shrug, hoping he’ll lose interest and drop it. But this is Luigi, and Luigi doesn’t drop anything. Never has.

He reaches for the menus we haven’t touched and starts flipping through them with the look of a single dad trying to feed a picky toddler. “Are you in the mood for fries or something more like grilled cheese?”

Why is he giving me the illusion of choice? “I’m not hungry,” I try.

Don’t think he even hears me. “This place has great cole slaw. Have you tried it?”

“Cole slaw? No. Lu, it’s two in the morning. I’m fine with the decaf.” I try to say it kindly because he’s trying. I wish he wouldn’t, but he’s a man compelled.

He nods, still not looking at me, and flips the page. “They’ve got lots of omelette options,” he says, pointing at a picture with complete earnestness, waiting for my response.

He’s so perfect, I hate him. “Thank you, Luigi. I’m just not hungry.” I try to sound sincere and convincing.

But Luigi is impossible. The man has never dropped an argument in his life. He sees a problem he can fix, and he won’t stop until it’s solved. Right now, I’m his problem.

He stands up and heads to the pastry case.

Oh no.

I try to turn around and wave him off, but he’s deliberately ignoring me at the counter. I lean back in the booth, defeated.

My stomach growls. Goddammit.

A minute later, he comes back with a chocolate-dipped almond horn and sets it in front of me without ceremony. I stare at it. It’s glossy, gorgeous, massive. He knows me too well.

“Mangia,” he says.

I sigh because I’m conceding this one for the sake of our relationship. I break off a piece and take a bite. It’s dense, chewy, and perfect. Much like Luigi himself. I would throw myself in front of a bus for him.

He’s chuffed, his toothy grin lighting up his whole face, his eyes crinkling under the wattage of his pleased smile. He must think he’s really saved the day.

I pick up my phone to look at anything other than his victorious face. He leans back, closes his eyes, and sighs. Success for Luigi.

If my world went to hell, he’d be the first one to grab me an almond horn. And I’d eat it every time.

[unhingedangstaddict]

The bucktommy mpreg brainrot is so real wtf. I never thought in a million years I'd write an mpreg fic and well,,,

Here's my latest wip

Tommy was sitting on the bathroom floor next to the toliet again, crying for no reason again. He was so sick of the spontaneous crying and worse he didn’t even know why he was crying. Tommy had cried after the break-up, but he’d mostly stopped after two-ish weeks. He was sick of feeling the way he’d felt all week- horrifically nauseous and tired no matter how much he slept.

Tommy was so caught up in his wallowing and his crying that he didn’t hear Lucy enter the house, didn’t notice her standing in the doorway to the ensuite. He only noticed her when she set a plastic bag from a drug store down at his feet.

Tommy sniffled and looked up at Lucy. “I’m starting to regret giving you a key.” He wiped the tears off his cheeks.

“Is it really so terrible having someone look out for you?” Lucy crossed her arms.

Tommy was quiet.

“Thought so.” Lucy nodded.

Tommy curiously reached for the bag and looked inside.

“First time ever for me, the women's version of something was cheaper than the mens version. It’s the exact same thing, just different colored packaging.” Lucy said nonchalantly.

Tommy hardly registered what Lucy was saying as he plucked the box out of the bag. A three pack of pregnancy tests. In an instant it felt like his world had been flipped on it’s axis.

There was no way this was actually happening, but if he was- if Lucy was right about this, it would make sense. The headaches, the fatigue, the random crying, the nausea and vomiting- morning sickness. Now that Tommy thought about it, it seemed like his sense of smell had maybe been heightened the last week or so too.

“If I’m way out of line here Tommy, just tell me, it’s fine. I’ll keep ‘em for next time I have a scare.” Lucy offered.

Tommy swallowed thickly. His mind and heart were racing. This couldn’t be happening.

“Tommy?” Lucy prompted.

“I don’t know.” Tommy said quietly. Clearly Lucy had been thinking about this at least since they were on the phone not that long ago. Her suggestion to drink something made even more sense now. Tommy couldn’t believe this was his life.

“What- what do you mean you don’t know?” Lucy asked.

“I never uh, I never got tested to see if I’m a carrier.” Tommy couldn't take his eyes off the box of pregnancy tests.

“You’re joking right?” Lucy sounded shocked or maybe even pissed.

Tommy shook his head.

“How could you be so irresponsible?” Lucy questioned. “You- I can’t believe you never got tested. I can understand not getting tested as a kid with your dad being the way he is but Tommy, you’re- you sleep with men! How could you not get tested?”

Tommy spoke with a monotone voice, head clearly elsewhere. “Parents never bothered. Then I was in denial about being gay and thought I could make myself fall in love with a woman. Then it didn’t matter because I was never serious enough to ditch condoms. Then it didn’t matter when I was serious enough to ditch condoms because I was almost exclusively the top and I was too old. The thought never even crossed my mind in all the time I was with Evan.”

“Oh my god Tommy.” Lucy mumbled.

“I know.” Tommy swallowed thickly. “I guess I have to take one of these now, huh?”

“I’d recommend all three, actually.” Lucy told him. “These things aren’t the most reliable, always a chance of false negatives or positives, so it’s best to take more than one test but if you take two and get two different results then you won’t feel any better or worse than you did before taking them, until you take another. So three at once.”

“Sounds like you know from experience.” Tommy looked up at Lucy.

“I’m a woman who does not exclusively sleep with other women.” Lucy shrugged.

Lucy left the bathroom so Tommy could take the tests, and as soon as he was finished he set them on the counter, opened the door for Lucy, started a timer, and sat back down on the floor again, not confident that he wasn’t going to throw up again at any moment.

Lucy came in and sat next to Tommy on the floor. Just by looking at him she could tell he wasn’t in the mood to talk and for the time being she knew everything she needed to know. Tommy hadn’t even thought about the possibility of this so Lucy was certain that Tommy had no idea what he’d want to do about it- if Tommy was pregnant it was undoubtedly Evan’s, and Tommy was scared and heartbroken right now. Instead of talking Lucy just took his hand and held onto it.

Three minutes felt like an eternity, and if it wasn’t for Lucy holding onto Tommy’s hand, he was sure he would’ve completely lost his grip on reality. He distantly heard the timer on his phone going off, followed by Lucy giving his hand a squeeze. Tommy stopped the timer. He couldn’t look at the tests. He couldn’t move. “Can you look?” He rasped.

“Of course.” Lucy said gently. She stood, not letting go of Tommy’s hand and looked at the tests on the counter. There were two visual tests and one digital test with a weeks along indicator.

The visual tests both showed plus signs, meaning the tests were positive.

The digital test read ‘Pregnant 3+’, meaning three or more weeks along.

“Luce?” Tommy’s grip on her hand tightened.

“Positive.” Lucy told him.

“All of them?” Tommy wondered.

“All three.” Lucy nodded.

Tommy nodded slowly. “Okay.” He whispered as tears stung his eyes and quickly began to fall.

Lucy squeezed Tommy’s hand and returned to her spot on the floor next to him.

Tommy pulled his knees to his chest, rested the arm that wasn’t holding Lucy’s hand on his knees, put his head down, and sobbed for so many reasons it felt like there wasn’t even a reason to be crying at all.

[celandeline]

Hiiii bestie, can we get an angry Carl x reader, leading to smut

Yes we can!

Make It Up To You

Carl Grimes X Reader (SMUT), oneshot

“What the hell were you thinking?” 

You’ve never seen Carl this mad before. Sure, you’ve seen him get mad - pissed off, sulky, more snappy than usual - but you’ve never seen this. This is something else. This has his eye brimming with rage, and an ugly curl to his lips, like he’s getting ready to spit venom. 

“Anyone would have done the same!” You shoot back, brows furrowed. You don’t really understand why he’s mad at you. Going back into the department store after a bunch of walkers broke in wasn’t the smartest thing you could have done, sure, but you weren’t just going to leave Tara behind. Not when she’s saved your ass before. And you’re fine - a little scratched up from climbing through that broken window, but that's it - no bites, nothing serious. 

“It was stupid, and risky, and you could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Carl spits. 

Now you’re starting to get mad too - you’re tired, you haven’t really even gotten a chance to sit down since you and the rest of your run group got back, and now Carl’s in your face, almost shouting at you. “What happened to ‘we don’t leave anyone behind’?” You shoot back. “You’re saying I should have just left her there?”

“No! I’m just saying, instead of running in by yourself, you could have gone back in with the rest of the group. You know it’s stupid to go anywhere on your own, you could have at least asked someone to watch your back, or draw some of them away or something.” He says. 

“Sorry - there wasn’t a whole lot of time to draw up a plan before she would’ve gotten eaten.” You snark back at him. “And, in case you haven’t noticed,” You gesture down to the rest of yourself. “I’m perfectly fine. I can handle myself.”

“Couldn’t handle asking for backup, apparently.” He says, icy blue gaze boring into you. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You ask. “It’s fine - I’m fine, Tara’s fine, everyone got back safe. Yes, I could have died, I know, I don’t need you lecturing me about the risks-”

“Maybe you do, ‘cause it seems like you forgot-” He cuts you off. 

“Fuck off.” You spit, turning around to head back to your house. You don’t need this right now - you just got back from risking your ass to get supplies for the town, and yeah, there were a couple really close calls when you went back in to save Tara. All you wanted to do was go home, take a shower, get a fresh change of clothes. But instead, you got an angry Carl Grimes trying to lecture you about shit you already know. You don’t even know why he cares so much - sure, you’re friends, but the way he was so angry-

“Where are you going?”

You roll your eyes at the sound of him following you, and don’t bother to turn around to look at him. “Home.”

He falls into step beside you, still glaring at you from under the rim of his hat. “You can’t just walk away in the middle of a conversation-”

“Didn’t feel like a conversation to me.” You interrupt him. “Felt like you were just shouting at me about how stupid I am.” 

“I didn’t-” He starts. “That’s not- I wasn’t trying to say that you’re dumb-”

“Well, you did. Quite a few times, actually.” You cut him off, heading up the steps to your porch. You turn around to face him once you get to the door. “Look, Carl, I’m really not in the mood to keep doing this right now-”

“I don’t think you’re dumb.” He says, the anger in his voice turning into urgency. “And I’m not trying to say that you’re weak or can’t handle yourself, or that you shouldn’t have gone back to save Tara, but it was risky. Too risky, and it didn’t have to be, and if it had gone bad, I don’t-” His voice cracks, and he stops himself. 

You wait for a moment for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, you roll your eyes. “Careful,” You snark. “It almost sounded like you were going to say something nice about me. If you’re done, I’m gonna go shower-”

His lips are on yours before you can really realize what’s happening, and on instinct you pull away. “Carl.” You say, brow furrowed as you look him in the eye, searching for… something, to explain what the fuck is going on. 

“If you died, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” He says, lips only an inch away from yours. All the anger in him has turned into pleading, his eyes wide, searching your gaze the same as you search his. 

“So, what, you shout at me the moment I get home?” You ask. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. “Really. I just- I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Please.”

-

Most of the time, you find the extravagance of the houses in Alexandria a little annoying. It only serves as a reminder to before, how your mom used to cut out pictures of places like this to scrapbook into her future plans journal. It only serves as a reminder to how much your dad would grumble about ‘rich people shit’ when he got home from the construction site. 

Now though, you find yourself a little grateful for the heated flooring in the ensuite master bathroom, and the spacious glass shower. The glass is almost completely covered with steam from the hot water cascading out of the showerhead, and you can only see the faintest reflection of yourself, back against the tile as Carl fucks you.  

He’s propped up above you, watching you reverently as his hair drips water onto your cheeks. You keep running your hands through the wet strands, trailing your fingernails across the nape of his neck to make him shiver, despite the heat of the shower. 

“Fuck.” He gasps, dropping down to press his chest against yours and tuck his head into the crook of your neck. 

“Mmm.” You return, taking the opportunity to mouth at the side of his neck, gently sinking your teeth into the skin there. He moans again, and his hips stutter against yours, briefly losing his rhythm before regaining it. You trail your lips upward to bite at the lobe of his ear, and grin when he falters again. 

“Stop doing that.” He pants, pulling his head out of the crook of your neck to look down at you again. 

“Why?” You ask, winding your arms around his shoulders to tug him down for a quick kiss. “I can tell you like it-”

“I’m supposed to be the one - mm, fuck - making it up to you, not the other way around.” He says. 

“You already picked - ah - all of the walker guts out of my hair, I think your debt is paid.”

He shakes his head, little droplets of water flying out of his hair. “Not until I make you cum.”

He throws himself back into fucking you with his full focus, burying his head back into the crook of your neck to mouth at your collarbones, panting heavy against your skin. You let your eyes flutter shut, enjoying the ride. It’s good - surprisingly. He’s done this before, you think - Enid, probably - enough times to know what works and what doesn’t, and if he keeps going at the rate he is, he might actually get you to finish without you having to help him along. 

“You’re so pretty.” He says, breathy against your skin. 

You open your eyes again, and run a hand up his spine, causing him to arch into you. “You should’ve just - fuck,” You gasp at a particularly hard thrust. “Told me you liked me.”

“Probably.” He agrees. “Didn’t - mm - want you to say no though.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious I wouldn’t have.” You breathe, winding a hand into his hair again, holding him against you as the coil in your stomach tightens. 

“How was I supposed to, ah, know?” He asks, lifting his head out of your neck.

“Could’ve asked-” You tip your head back against the tile as you feel yourself nearing the edge. “Fuck, Carl-”

He groans, low in the base of his throat, and speeds up his thrusts, snapping his hips against yours. “Please,” He moans. “Please, please-”

You sigh as you cum, and pull him down against you. You’re more relaxed than you’ve ever been as you come down, between the sex and the heat of the shower around you. Carl doesn’t take too long to follow, letting out a few more hiccuping moans before he pulls out, shooting his cum onto the floor of the shower. You watch it get carried away down the drain as you catch your breath. 

Carl plops himself down on the floor of the shower next to you with a satisfied smile. “Good?”

“Very.” You agree, pulling yourself up from where you were sprawled on the floor.

A moment passes between you, the only sound is that of the shower water hitting the tile, and you take a minute to just look at him, taking in just how pretty he is. 

“Sorry again.” He says, breaking the silence. “For yelling at you. And, um, not telling you that I liked you.”

“S’okay.” You say, because it is. “We got there, eventually.”

He laughs a little. “Yeah.”

You grin at him. “We’re going to have to clean off again.”

“That’s alright with me.” He says, returning your smile.

[nothing-impt]

(I lost my mind thinking about how the Fried Chicken Au came about and wrote a crack fic ft. Flying snakes. Also I am terrible at writing but I couldn't help myself)

---- “Ah, darling! There you are, as much as I love staring into your eyes, where is your blindfold?”  Hermes chirped, greeting the prophet as he sat next to him near the Lethe. Tiresias scoffed, “Oedipus came by today and pissed on all of them. I sent them to the wash.” “All of them?” “Every single one. Is everything alright? I was told you needed to meet me rather urgently.” He paused. “Is it about Odysseus? Did something happen to him?” Hermes cleared his throat. “No. My lovely great-grandson’s doing fine! He should be heading home pretty soon!” “So what’s the issue?” “...” “Hermes?” “Uh.. maybe you should just feel me to find out.” “Hermes, I am not falling for your tricks to get me to grope you.” “No, no! I’m being serious! Just trust me.” Tiresias leaned over and reached for where Hermes was supposed to be and his fingers brushed air. He scowled “There’s nothing there. I told you, no more tricks.” “You’re almost there! Just move your hands down a little!” “You better not be lying-” His fingers brushed against feathers. “Am I touching your shoes?” Hermes chuckled nervously “No?” The prophet pulled back “What exactly am I touching?” “Uh.. I’m kind of a dove now?” “Please tell me you’re joking.” Tiresias deadpanned. “I wish I was! One moment I was delivering messages and the next- boom! I was a bird! Here, touch me again!” A nearby soul wolf whistled and Tiresias hushed him, face burning  “Please, don’t say it like that!” he bent down and stroked dove Hermes, who crooned happily. “Maybe I should bring you to Lord Hades. He might have an answer.” Dove Hermes (Dovemes?) squawked out a laugh and ruffled his feathers. “I doubt it, all the Olympians have been affected. Dad’s currently an eagle, Polly’s a crow and Arty’s a quail. Don’t get me started on Uncle P, he’s a blue seagull! But Dio’s a little scary…” “What bird did Lord Dionysus turn into? A hawk?” “Worse. He turned into this purple flamingo-looking sculpture. He doesn’t move. Just stares. He kept asking for a drink though. Dad told the nymphs to dunk him in a bowl of wine so we all didn’t have to look at him. Aphrodite was super creeped out. She’s a swan, by the way.” Tiresias shuddered, “A curse must have been afflicted for Olympians to turn this way. Especially Lord Dionysus, to be deprived of movement.” Dovemes crooned in agreement as Tiresias continued to pet his feathers. “Anyway, it’s highly likely that Uncle Hades is a bird too! Look, he’s here now- Oh. nice eyes Uncle H!” Tiresias reached over to grab his staff and stood to greet the ruler of the Underworld. “Lord Hades.” “Greetings, Tiresias. Nephew, I see you have told the prophet about our predicament?” Dovemes lets out a chirp, “Yup! Wow, Uncle, I’m really digging the dazed look you’re going for- ow!” Tiresias prodded Hermes with his staff once more. “He may be your uncle, but don’t forget who you’re talking to. May I ask what bird you are Lord Hades?”

The sound of the ruffling feathers was heard, “I am a Potoo. Though I suppose we are centuries before its kind is made known to Greece. Excuse me, while I go find my wife to explain why her husband is currently a bird from  unknown origins.” With a squawk and a beat of wings, Hades left. Dovemes sighed, “Well, I better get going.” Tiresias raised a brow, “What? But you’re still stuck as a bird!” “Dad just sent out a message, he wants all of us to gather in Olympus to figure this out. I won’t visit for a while, but you can have this!”

Tiresias felt a small-clawed foot slip a feather into his palm. "Wait. Hang on-"

“I’ll see you around, darling!” And Dovemes flew off.

Tiresias sighed. What in Zeus’ name is going on?